Monday, January 3, 2011


I stood before my King.
I watched His eyes of fire as they watched me.
The threadbare, tattered, rags of my own righteousness
Hung from my shoulders.
I had called them garments once,
But now I realized they were chokeholds.
Threads that formed a rope of resistance
Draining the life out of my soul.
The Accuser burst into the room
And with a voice of wicked delight said,
"This is Your highest creation?
This polluted, trembling worm begging for salvation?
I demand his damnation! Or will you put your justice to shame?"
My King's fiery eyes shone all the brighter, like a fueled flame.
Then, my Beloved rose and I caught sight
Of His wounds.
The scars that should be mine.
And with a voice of power perfumed with beauty
He spoke to the dragon that demanded my soul,
"Get behind me Satan!
Do you not remember my words when I died?"
Suddenly, a vision inflamed my mind.
The Lamb was on the cross.
Nails held Him tight.
Or was it love that held Love there?
Regardless, the darkness, the mocking, the groans of His spirit
Form one resolute melody of victory disguised.
Then, the mocking pounds louder,
The darkness presses harder,
The crescendo of the song is the Lamb's final cry,
                  "IT IS FINISHED"
He dies.
The vision ends, and I see the dragon
Whimper and crawl away defeated.
My Love looks at me.
I tremble with an understanding of my own failure.
"Pardon me Lord," I said " As I stand before you now
All I have to give you are my stale promises and broken vows."
He stops me, and grace fills His eyes.
He takes of His own purple robe and wraps it around my nakedness,
And gives me a kiss perfumed with His sweet fragrance.
Redemption holds me tight.

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