My Response to the Season of Lent.
Why does a cross lay upon my chest?
Not being an instrument that was to bless?
Many men have fought--those that could,
Trying to avoid that fearful wood.
Many are the paths that lead to death.
None match the need for a man’s last breath.
Shamed and scorned for all to see.
Naked and cursed none being free.
Hung on a hill till pain gives way.
Death in darkness seizes its prey.
Blood stained timbers carried the loss
Reason enough to hide that cross
Why in prayer on bended knee,
Do I wear that dreadful tree?
The Love of the Father bore that pain
Mocked and scorned, Jesus was slain.
Alone He died that horrible fate,
Abandoned by all who pledge to wait.
Against all sin, the Father’s wrath
Christ’s guiltless blood satisfied that.
Peace on Earth to whom God is pleased.
We are reconciled and He is appeased
By the Father’s love, Christ’s victory,
Death was destroyed, I am set free.
Here I stand by a cross so ugly
Christ is raised, what else is so lovely.