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The sacrificial lamb was laid upon
The altar by the hands of wicked men,
And all was dark the days before the dawn
In the apparent victory of sin.
The lesser lion, seeking to devour,
Set his assault against the sacred son,
And Satan, in the darkness of the hour,
Was certain that the victory was won.
And so it was, but not for his array.
The cross of Christ displayed for all to see
That Satan’s claim to power had been wrong.
The finished hunter had become the prey.
The word made flesh fulfilled the prophecy.
The lamb had been a lion all along.
This world is but a labyrinth of lies,
And all of us are seeking an escape
From tunnels which resound with wretched cries,
From sights which leave our speechless mouths agape.
Within this maze there walks a wicked foe
Who wills to tear apart and to devour.
This minotaur in darkness down below
Is claiming lives with ev’ry passing hour.
In vain do we attempt to hide away
From him in hope that we will yet survive.
We tell each other stories of the day
As one by one we cease to be alive.
We cry out for our Theseus to fight
And save us from the terror of the night.
I love fall. As weather begins to cool and leaves begin to litter the ground, I always find myself feeling excited for the change. Growing up in south Louisiana, I became used to heat and humidity, so any change from that constant is most welcome. Continue reading
Cold. Not a winter cold, though. After all, this was mid-June. No, it was more of a lifeless cold: a certain uncomfortable feeling that something wasn’t right in the world. It was damp too, as I recall. All around, I felt a paralyzing stillness. It was as if this place had never felt the sun’s warmth, never imagined the spark of love, never shifted from its sullen fixation on its own emptiness. This place was darkness, unadulterated and unexplored. Continue reading
O God, I humbly must confess
My love for all unrighteousness.
My love for you, I know, is less
Than my desire for filthiness.
And I, by my own might, cannot
Erase the blemish, ban the blot
Of sin. This wound I cannot clot.
Apart from help, this life will rot.
So come before this heart of dross
That festers underneath the gloss
Makes of this man a total loss.
O God, how I deserve that cross.
I know there is no good in me.
Your son, I could not hope to be,
For by your Word, I better see:
My only hope must come from Thee.
And though I cannot earn your peace,
By grace you do from sin release
My soul, and cause my death to cease.
Your holy blood has washed my fleece.
Depravity cannot repel
The Savior snatching souls from hell.
And though we wear this dying shell,
Our ears will hear the wedding bell.
So let me never now lose sight
Of your great glory, grace, and might,
And let your holy, saving light
Shine through and make me ever bright.
Oh how quickly we abandon
Our morality and will
When, to our complete confusion,
Circumstances strike us ill.
Ill-advised is our rebellion,
Yet the rebel’s part we play:
From disciple into hellion
When the storm invades the day.
Can we not remember glory,
That our Lord has won the fight?
Do we yet forget the story?
Light has broken through the night!
Suffering is light and fleeting
When compared to Christ above.
No bereavement, bane, or beating
Breaks the grip of God’s great love.
Persecution serves to purge us.
Suffering now sanctifies.
We are bought by Christ’s own purchase,
Seeing now with open eyes.
Therefore, we count joy our sorrow,
Singing praise in deepest pain.
Should we face our death tomorrow,
Even this is wond’rous gain.
How can eternity be fit into
A heart wrapped up in temporality?
Can lying lips do justice to the True?
The finite comprehend infinity?
We quake before the whispers of his ways.
Who then could stand before his thund’rous might?
This God who is, the all-consuming blaze –
He dwelleth unapproachable in light.
And yet, in Christ, the Maker made a way
For mortal man to know immortal love.
And Beauty – more than words could ever say –
Became the Revelation from above.
Communion takes the place of death in sin
As God makes blinded eyes to see again.
In the beginning was the Word, our God.
In him, creation is and is sustained.
In time, upon this earth, he came to trod.
This Jesus: God translated, God explained.
But man, in darkness, did not know the Light,
Nor took the Word as more than persiflage.
The blind still claimed to see with certain sight.
Their law: a mere intransitive triage.
But glory from the Father through the Son
Has broken through the barrier of sin.
The saving work of heaven has been done.
The Word once dead will never die again.
Awakened by the will of God, we claim
Salvation in the Word’s most holy name.
How can it be
That he would see
From heaven’s highest throne
A broken man
With fallen plan
And call him for his own?
The earth and sky
Before his eye
Submit to his command,
Yet by his grace
This human race
Is set above the land.
This God above
Is rich in love
And stoops to care for men.
He came in night
To shine his light
And save our souls from sin.
Who knows our mortal state:
The Lord of life
To change the sinner’s fate.
I’m not good at letting people see me struggle. Continue reading