d i m e n s i o n s

With tears of gratitude, I present this humble rhyme to my Savior Jesus Christ.

However!

I find it so ironic. So amazing. So utterly stupefying... that He who gives me these words and melodies and pictures in the first place, would be pleased when I turn around and give them back as if they were something I concocted on my own.

It makes me feel like a child his/her father's arms. He gives me a page from a coloring book. It has all the lines drawn already. In fact, the picture already looks great. Then I take a crayon to it. I scribble and scribble--hardly staying between the lines, no color matching what so ever. And I turn and hand it back. How do you think a father is to react?

Anyway, this is my humble tribute. My resurrection Sunday scribbled-up-torn-page-from-a-coloring-book offering

See how He hung

In blazing sun

Throbbing hands

Blood pools spun

Birds and crows

Are found content

In flesh and blood

Of savior spent

Wrath poured out

With no relent

On Him, the Christ

The Messiah rent

Through tears of pain

Rejection found

‘Twas wrath to fill

And sin confound

Of those He saved

With thorns was crowned

Our Redeemer’s grace

And praise resounds!