A-Poem-a-Day
Until Resurrection Day...
IT
PLEASED THE LORD TO CRUSH HIM[1]
When
I applied stinging iodine
to
the tender knees of my children
or
a corrective spank
or
a hug to assuage a broken heart
I
remember that
their
wounds, hurts
even
the chastisements
probably
wounded me more than them –
Why,
I would've become a she-lion
poised
to pounce and mangle
bruisers
of my own –
yet
the very God I know as Love
was
pleased to crush
was
delighted to bruise[2]
His
Very Own
So,
I shudder, convinced
God's
ways are infinitely higher
than
my finite mind can grasp –
for
God stayed His almighty hand
held
His almighty tongue
waited
it out in His Heaven
pleased,
even delighted
to
give His Only Son
innocent,
docile as a lamb
to
be mocked, bruised, spat upon
crowned
with thorn branches
stripped
and nailed naked to a tree –
yes,
pleased and delighted was He
as
the Most Precious Blood
of
His Only Son
rained
like rubies
upon
the ground
Pleased
and delighted am I
that
the God Who so loves
crushed
and bruised
His
Very Own
for me
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