rancherwriterpoet

Poetry, musings, reflections, life

Archive for the tag “Easter”

Witness

As we near Easter Sunday, let us be reminded why we celebrate this day. It is a day of new beginnings, a day of remembrances and another opportunity to share that witness. As a writer, this is probably my favorite, at least in the top five. It dates back to 1992, however, the story line goes back to a most important time in the life of a Christian. I get goosebumps each time I read it. I sincerely hope you understand the true meaning of Easter as we celebrate life, both here and hereafter.

Sounds of cursing and anger fill the air.
And yet, He groans quietly.
The burden on His shoulders grows heavy
As He walks, stooped over slightly.

The flesh on His back… lay bare by the whip,
And His feet have swollen as well.
His vision is blurred by sweat mixed with blood.
He stumbled…and He fell.

The soldiers’ authority commands fear.
One man is conscripted for use.
“Carry the beam!” they directed the man.
For the young one is weak from abuse.

The young man moves slowly, climbing the hill.
His condition prevents a fast pace.
People are gathering to witness this scene,
For there’s something peculiar about this place.

I sense something special about this young man.
He seems so confident in His fate.
But others about Him don’t seem to care,
For they scorn Him and verbalize hate.

The instrument of death is placed on the ground.
The young man is secured to the post.
Spikes penetrate His hands… and His feet…
The soldiers stand back and boast.

clouds grow dark and they cover the sun,
Thunder breaks loudly and clear.
The ground begins cracking and groaning,
And the people who’ve gathered begin to fear.

In a loud voice, I hear Him cry out
In a language, I don’t understand.
Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani,*
There’s something unusual about this man…

——-

His death is complete and His body’s removed,
He’s placed in a borrowed tomb.
Grief and sadness overcome His friends
As they endure this period of gloom.

And now! Its the third day! His body isn’t here!
The story He told, really is true!
He died for atonement, was buried for sin,
Resurrected… for life anew.

I witness this scene as though I were there,
For it’s embedded completely in mind.
How Jesus… suffered and died,
Was raised, giving life for His kind.

                                                                                 Pete Robertson
Mark 15:34 NASB                                                                ©1992

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Perfect Plan, Perfect Price

Woven tightly on His head,
Reeds of thorns, discolored red.
Vision blurred, eyes so weak.
Broken voice, He tries to speak.
Lips so dry, about to crack,
Raised red whelps across His back.

Spiked to wood, the crowd demands,
His feet, His caring hands.
Pierced veins, muscles torn
Naked body thus forlorn.
gall to drink, unquenchable thirst,
spat upon, grossly cursed.

Downcast friends, broken hearts
Shaken earth; veil that parts
Opened tombs, souls released
Pain and agony decreased
Execution is complete
Sin is vanquished in defeat.

Earthly body laid to rest
Mourners saddened and depressed
Lamenters rift, beset with gloom.
Stone removed, empty tomb,
Risen Savior, sacrifice,
Perfect plan, Perfect price

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