Spiked to pair of wooden, interlocking beams,
He hung bleeding, after being severely whipped.
There Christ experienced for the first time,
what it really meant to be like us -
bruised, dirty and covered by a legacy of sin
that clamors for our eventual death.
On that fateful day of His crucifixion,
our Lord felt the agony of separation,
as Jehovah turned His back towards earth,
being unable to gaze lovingly at The Son.
In Christís final hours of suffering,
Godís presence had departed from Him;
He was subjected to physical pain,
the shame from emotional wounds of rejection,
the ridicule concerning His destiny
and divine, heavenly authority.
Today He wears the disfiguring reminders,
permanently in His holy and glorified body,
while His eyes drip with tears of forgiveness;
itís an unending testament of His Love for us,
having beenÖ forever scarred.
Loosely based on:
Rom 6:23; Isa 53:5; Matt 27:27-56; Mark 15:21-38;
Luke 23:26-49; John 19:16-37
Learn more about me and my poetry at: