What He's Done

A Good Friday reflection

Jesus of Nazareth. 

When you touched dirty people, they were made new. 
Just the hem of your clothing 
was worth far more than any ceremonial cleansing, 
our bodies rememb’ring their maker, their King. 

You dismissed legions of demons 
from their strongholds of skin, 
sight returned at your touch, 
you governed Palestinian winds, 
the foaming sea of Galilee stilled 
like glass under your feet.
You told corpses they were just asleep 
and their eyes opened!

You could’ve been crowned king 
by the crowds then, but instead
You, the perfect and anointed,

knelt beneath their whip. 

Tempted, 
rejected, 
mocked and 
afflicted, 
Isaiah’s lamb, the ram from Mount Moriah, 
already surrendered. 
A silent sheep before the shearers.

Yeshua, our humiliation was held in your hands, 
you gathered Yahweh’s wrath in your bones.
The Prince of Peace trodden on 
like grapes in a winepress, punctured with holes. 

Your spilled blood kissed calvary, 
forsaken, 
executed, 
lost.  
Instead of triumphing over the Romans, 

you died on their cross.

But in the midst of the carnage 
was an ancient promise—
the redeeming Messiah, 
the binding for the brokenhearted,
the greater Elijah, 
the light in the darkness, 
the freedom for the captives; 
if you lose your life, I assure you, you’ll find it— 

the year of the Lord’s undeserved, beautiful, miraculous favor,
discovered in His son’s broken body, 
a Savior.