Light
The enemy thought he'd silenced our cries
And ended our Hope for all good.
Stuffed all the Light where the dead body lies,
But defeat Him that death never could.
They buried Him there and sealed Him up tight;
Hope, it went down in the tomb.
Brought Sunday morning back into light,
And Life springing forth from the womb.
Love that would seal us, free us and teach,
Carried away in the shroud.
Look for Him, find Him there, just within reach,
And coming again in the cloud.
Light, it breaks forth, and no one can take
The hope that so safely resides
In breasts beating light and hearts that must make
Him Lord, and none other besides.
This started as a five-minute prompt from Lisa-Jo, but I confess to spending a little more time than that. It's Good Friday, after all.
And what makes this any better than last Friday, or next? Why do Christians celebrate a gruesome death, an execution, really?
It's not so much the Friday, but the Sunday that's coming. Sunday will be awesome.
I'm not big on celebrations or traditions. We have a few, like our Christmas Eve slumber party and our birthday treasure hunts. I guess that throwing the aluminum-foil balls at each other when we have baked potatoes is kind of a tradition. But we will for sure be making these Saturday evening, and we may even eat them before breakfast because what better to wake up to than sweet, empty calories/tombs?
Who is he who condemns? It is Christ who died, and furthermore is also risen, who is even at the right hand of God, who also makes intercession for us. - Rom 8:34 NKJV