Hanging on a Tree

As I close my eyes I watch the day True Love died—

Dark and somber the heavens of the earth hid the shining of the sun. The world does not know what is about to take place; they dance and twirl in the naivety of their flesh. Men blaspheme against His name, rejecting His kindness and yet He still presses on. I see the blood dripping as He takes each step; smeared by the corner of the wooden cross dragging behind, painfully carried on His raw back. They made Him look like ground beef and yet He keeps walking. I come into the knowledge of what is about to happened and I begin to weep. Louder and louder I reach for Him. God made Man, who has the power to obliterate every breathing soul instead chooses to live in flesh and pain achingly crawls to His death.  The procession of people stop. We are here, atop the hill that will forever be marked as the setting of Love poured out. A hush comes over the earth and every flesh and bone wait upon the silence of this Jewish man disconnected to the truth that He is their Maker. The cross is laid, the metal pierces through His hands, God made flesh now pinned to the wooden pieces of a tree that He at one time created. The blood of Sacrifice drips down and the sound of each drop hitting the ground rings in my ear. How can this happen? How can the One that gave me life die so cruelly? I cannot stand this. I cannot bear this injustice. 

My hands catch the drops of His blood as I sit at the foot of His cross. Dramatically aching for Him to not leave. The Creator of all, the King of kings, Lord of lords, the Incarnate that left His Holy dwelling to be born of a young Jewish woman in a smelly, dirty stable is now dying an unlawful death between two thieves. Flesh being torn from His body, pointed at and ridiculed. This holy man now hangs on a cross and there is nothing I can do, nothing I can say that will stop it. “This is how it must be, this must take place," He whispers, gazing at my painfully regretful face. The fear in my heart purges out and I fall to the ground wanting to just touch Him. I crawl on my knees attempting to get closer, but it feels too late. Did I miss You Jesus? Did I miss Your presence?He looks at me with a stare that is unlike anything I have ever seen before. Pain and sorrow, joy and conquer intricately woven together behind the eyes that will one day be enflamed with fire. —“I will return for you. I will come again to behold you. I will take away pain and tears,”—I lock eyes and cannot move. 

You are hanging on that tree for me. You are feeling the fullness of Your flesh to fulfill the prophesy of Your righteous and Holy plan. Dying a human death so that I may dwell in Your house all the days of my life. This deed is overwhelms me. Your love overtakes me and I cannot breathe. Choked by the beauty of Your sacrifice. Oh Jesus how You wholly and violently love me. With Your death I am made alive. And you made it to be that way. You have saved me. You have saved all of us. When we could not see, You knew. When we walked in the footsteps of foolishness You patiently waited for us to turn the other way. When we desired Your death, You selflessly sacrificed Yourself so that we may forever gaze into those eyes. On the cross You cry to Your father, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” You ask the Him for forgiveness on behalf of Your torturers. “I love you,” You scream and no one cares to listen. Oh God here I am to hear You. Here I am to worship at Your feet. I put my trust in You. I say yes to You. At the sound of Your last breaths I fall once more and give You everything I am. I will give you myself Lord. I will rest in Your sacrificing presence. Your death is not in vain. Your resurrection is the assurance of Your second coming; You will come back to have your inheritanceMy sins are forgiven and I rejoice in my new birth. Because of your death I am made alive. Because of your resurrection I will meet You again. Because of Your resting place on the holy throne I can feel You now, I can hear Your voice, experience Your emotions until that day You come back to dwell forever with Your beloved. 

The final hour comes and His last breath is expensed. Every emotion consumes me and I am left speechless, looking at the lifeless body, catching the blood of my Redeemer, every drop overtaking my sinful being and washing me whiter than snow.

I See Strings: Results of Sunday Night in the Prayer Room

Just as You hang the stars in the night sky You hold up my very being. Like a puppet I move at Your every word. Clinging as a bee does to its honey, though You are sweeter. Where would I be if You had not caught me, if You had not attached me to Yourself and intricately maneuvered me through every sunrise and sunset. I am your Rose of Sharon and You my morning star and the banner over me is love. We sing, say, preach, these things, but do we really believe it? Do I really believe it? Do I actually believe that when I talk Your heart moves. That when I gaze up at You things in Heaven shake. Oh what love You have for me that You would puppeteer a wretched child like me. 

I look out into the city abyss and see the world attached with strings to the heavens. Each one of Your creations You guide throughout life without fault or missed steps—forever unchanging. Why do You do it God? I must know. I must know how You can love us! How You can look over the balcony, peer into this darkened age, and yet still come for us. Strong like a lion and compassionate as a sheep, You never turn away Your eyes. You never run from Your beloved. As we each day only give you a piece of ourselves You wrap us in all of You. 

I look at the myriad of these strings across this earth, connected every which way—spiraling and crossing and some even zig-zagging—and my heart aches at the size of your love. Even the strings of those who completely deny Your presence are still attached. You still carry them in Your arms patiently waiting for the day their eyes meet Yours. How I cannot even begin to imagine how it feels to have your masterpiece stripped from You. The very ones you blew life into slander Your name, but You keep Your arms open. “Come to me” You say, and yet they do not move towards You. But You still stay. 

Ahh yes, we move You, I move You. I look to the heavens and sing, with my strings intact and my heart open to receive Your love and I know my choice is rightly made. I do not know why, but as my eyes fall on your glorious abode I know that its intensity overwhelms You. I can feel my strings become tighter as I release more of myself to You, but it is a tightness of freedom. I let go and You perfectly guide me. I give up and You rejoice as you passionately scream in my ear, “finally You are here at rest.” Chaos leaves, stress dissipates, and my body is left fully feeling last Thursdays nights ab workout—I’m alive. With my strings attached to the Heavens I look at my at my Beloved and fall down over the beauty of His perfected puppeteer skills and the undying desire to have His inheritance in this Earth.