Poetry

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He volunteered for duty
His uniform, the flesh of man
The stripes worn upon his body, placed there not by ceremony
But by the strikes of a whip
His weapon, a two edged sword-the word of truth
I was a prisoner of unrighteousness
He fought diligently, on a rescue mission
That I might be set free from my captivity
His eyes remained upon me
As my own wandered with distraction
He was faithful
Even those who mocked him could not escape his love
Betrayed by one he called friend
He was captured; he was wounded
He died
Allowing his self to be murdered by the hands of men
That I could be saved by the grace of God
Three days in the grave
He arose
Leaving the finality of the tomb
To walk beside my unstable foot steps
He returned to the place of his death
Not to receive a medal of honor
But to receive me as his own
Unlocking my prison
He set me free
Continuing to lay his self down as a bridge
He closes the gap for me
That I may come boldly before the throne of God
He asks only that I receive his gift, and love others
Never forgetting who rescued me from the darkness
Becoming salt and light that I may guide others
To everlasting life

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