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An Easter Reflection
by Clive McLaren
03/13/08
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‘An Easter Reflection’
a poem by Clive McLaren 12th March 2008.

We dragged Him all the way through our fallen humanity.
Taunted, torn flesh, crowned with thorns, a sombre procession.
How could He do that, stretching His arms out in agony for free?
Nail Him to our sin, yeah, let Him take the blame!
King of the Jews? What a joke, give Him our bitter gall.
Let us divide His worldly possessions, we want them all,
Hey look His Mum’s here, and John too, oh what a shame!

‘Hey it’s getting dark, quick run Him through.’ a soldier grabs a spear.
‘I’m a louse, teacher, what am I to you?’
‘My Dad’s house has lots of room for louses, He loves you too.
‘Can I come then, come and play?’ ‘Of course my sinner son, I’ll see you there!’
‘I don’t like this dark, Corporal, finish Him’, water and blood pour from His side.
No cry of pain, only triumph, ‘It is finished!’ Mary’s heart bursts with understanding.
A criminal’s death for the innocent one, instead of death for us all.

Time, death and pride, all broken on this Rock of love.
Fooled, Nemesis gnashes his teeth in impotent fury and watches the prisoners leave.
Freed from death, the chains forever broken, they rise with Him.
A tomb, a brief resting place, ‘roll away that stone!’
‘Have you seen him’? ‘Where has He gone?’ ‘Mary it’s Me!’
‘He’s alive, my Master is here!’ ‘Women, what do they know?’
‘Hi guys, I’m back, how you doin’?’ Hearts flutter, knees tremble.

‘He smiles, sun-shine bursts from His face, ‘Any fish or bread? I’m hungry!’
‘Thomas, what do you think this hole is, air conditioning?’ ‘My Lord, my God!’
It’s okay; you’re the prototype of many sinner sons, till I come again.’
Jerusalem, its holiness returned, for a brief time, rumours galore, He is back!
Eyes and hearts open, seeds planted, new life shooting up all over the place.
Anyone who repeats this lie will be arrested! He and His blasphemy are dead!
The awesome wonder, the bliss, the Dove, the Light arising to His throne.

Being dead in my soul is the end of life, being comfortably numb is giving up.
Nothing going in, nothing coming out, years of searching, years of yearning,
Falling foul of the Nemesis of man, he takes us down and never lets us go.
Darkness, false light, ‘I’m in control of my destiny’, gotcha!
Eat, drink, new car, new house, new partner, the chasm widens,
I’m good, go to Church, direct debits to Oxfam, I do my bit don’t I?
A wide road, a slippery slope, the lies, but…wait… I didn’t think, oh God help me!

This cry can be heard from afar, He is the Door Keeper, with very good ears.
A whispered plea, for Him is all it takes, we are, after all, hot-wired to His Dad.
Pure silver thread ever so thin, almost but not quite stretched to oblivion.
‘Reel the boy in Son, he’s coming home.’ ‘What a party we’re going to have!’
What He did, in three years, and three days, timeless mercy, saving grace.
All sinners washed clean by the blood that flowed from Him, making us ready.
What a wedding, His shining glory, reflecting His shimmering spotless Bride!


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