I am a novelty to most,
A treasure to but two or three,
One face amidst history’s host,
But who am I to thee?
I am an upright man to most,
A sinner to but two or three,
One saint amidst the sacred host,
But who am I to thee?
I am unworthy, more than most,
A traitor to the one-in-three,
One soul amidst a sinful host.
Oh, who am I to thee?
I am a son because the most
August of sons rose morning three
With freedom for the captive host,
For he was truly thee.
I am yours to the uttermost,
A slave no more to two or three,
One voice, known, singing with your host.
E’er more am I to thee.
Photo by youssef naddam on Unsplash
Empty is the tomb.
Empty are its threats.
Curse borne from the womb
Cancelled with our debts.
Freedom from our doom
Found in heaven’s nets.
Photo by Paul Gilmore on Unsplash
Remember now the darkness of those three long days before
The dawning of the day of resurrection,
For few have felt the fear of thinking God had lost the war.
The shadow of his people’s insurrection
Now loomed across the future. Now our hope seemed spent and slain.
The light of life appeared to be extinguished.
The ones who sang his praises now in shock sang no refrain.
His life, howe’er, was willingly relinquished.
What seemed to be a sure defeat was fixed before the fall.
The devil’s darkest scheme was his undoing.
As Christ was lifted up, he drew all men to heed his call.
He drained the cup of wrath our sin was brewing.
The bitter silence of that Sabbath day must have been great.
Unheard, Satan’s presumpt’ous celebration.
When was it Satan realized the cross had sealed his fate?
The slaughtered lamb became our faith’s foundation.
We now look back in wonder at this work in history
And sing with joy to God who reigns eternal.
The cornerstone came forth again in holy victory
O’er ev’ry sin, the mean and the infernal.
The resurrection of the Son secured our joy and peace.
No enemy can sabotage or sever
Us from the Father’s love. In him, sin’s slavery must cease.
Sing praise, his people, now and to forever.
Photo by Ricky Turner on Unsplash
I gave more thought to Easter this year than I have in previous years, and I believe that art played a major role in helping me to focus and to feel.
Father, let me ne’er forget the story
Of the cross, the tomb, the third day’s glory.
For after those four hundred years so long,
Elijah’s call was heard throughout the land.
“The kingdom comes! Repent! Make straight the way!”
And with his words, John pointed to the Word,
The spotless lamb of God, the virgin’s son,
The heir to David’s throne, the promised one.
He brought us peace yet also brought a sword;
The people were divided in that day.
They cried. He died. They did not understand.
He rose, and this is evermore our song:
The king has won the war we could not fight;
The darkness has not overcome the light.
Photo by Laura Vinck on Unsplash