God is Bigger Than Your Shit

My last post about Lazarus reminded me of this poem I wrote several years ago…a good time to revisit these thoughts…may it bless the reader.

 

“Wind the gravecloths, bind them fast

If you need more, recall your past.

There’s lots of ways that you can die

Give up, lay down, refuse to try.

 

Here, pass the cloth, I’ll help you out

I’ll make the knots secure and stout.

Around the head, the eyes, the ears

I’ll block out all except your fears

 

Come on with me, I’ll show you where

your life can end without a care.

No need to fight, a few steps more

I can already see the door.

 

Too bad He did not come in haste

He must think you’re an awful waste.

He isn’t coming, He’s done with you

Here is the entrance, just step through…

 

Lay on the slab, now fold your hands

It’s dark, I know, but that’s the plan.

You aren’t cut out for life, it’s true

It’s simply much too hard for you…”

 

And on, and on, and on, and on…

until my strength was almost gone

the lies came fast with urgent glee

and I….I cried….and I agreed.

 

Entombed, I lay all on my own

Against the entrance rolled a stone.

The time had passed, He had not come

Like Lazarus, my life was done.

 

Then cutting through my thick despair

a Voice I love beyond compare

echoed within the walls around

Oh, how my heart leapt at the sound!

 

Come out, come out,

I am not done

Unwind the bindings,

See the sun!

 

Come out to Me,

I love you, friend,

You’re not forgotten

It’s not the end;

The days feel like eternity,

I know, dear one, but trust in Me.

My heart is grieved, I also cry,

I do not sleep, I cannot lie

 

I have a plan, I’m never late,

although sometimes you’ll have to wait,

for I will make My glory known

’til strongholds lie all overthrown!”

 

And I came out, into the Light

the rags of death still holding tight

Until He spoke to friends I know

“Unbind the cloths, and let her go”

 

And now I stand as one set free–

He spoke the words of life to me.

Do you lie wrapped in graveclothes too?

He’s at the door, He weeps for you.

 

Wait on the Lord, He’s on His way,

Hold on, hang tight, press in and pray;

He hears your every need and care

He knows what’s best, and He’ll be there.

Pour it out
in silver coin
for threshing floor and oxen;
The sacrifice
must come at price
for sin to be forgotten.
What cost it him–
the shepherd boy
who had become the king?
He blessed the loss
and would not burn
from that which cost him nothing.

Pour it out,
the costly oil
from broken alabaster;
anoint the Head
prepare for death
the body of the Master.
What cost it her
to freely give
what jealous souls would keep?
She blessed its loss
and spared no love
in tears upon His feet.

He poured it out,
His blood and life
for your soul and for mine.
Wrong made right
to reunite
the mortal with divine.
What cost it Him–
the Lord of Lords
upon that dreadful hill?
He blessed the loss
upon the cross
where time itself stood still.

Once and for all–
His Spirit set
on future joy and union–
Exploding forth
from hell and grave
to glorious reunion!

So pour it out
in service bold
as drink upon the ground;
your life’s the cost
and must be lost
before it can be found.
What cost it you–
a vapor’s breath–
to surrender Him your all?
You’ll bless the loss
and count it dross
at His great trumpet-call.

2 Samuel 24:18-25
Luke 7:36-38
Mark 14:3-9
Hebrews 10:1-4
Mark 8:34-38
1 Corinthians 15:50-58

I thought I’d sit and write a list
to frame my disposition
a tally of my attributes
for others to envision.

I struggled much to keep it short
as you will plainly see;
I’m sure you’ll be as proud as I
of my humility.

As patient as a saint, I am,
unless things goes awry;
And honest as the day is long
until I’m forced to lie.

I’m firm with all my discipline
except when lenient,
I’ll gladly help you in a jam
as long as it’s convenient.

My faithfulness to faithlessness
will never find its equal!
The book that holds my final say
now needs to have a sequel.

I’m abidingly committed
to steadfast indecision,
and great is my unswerving trust
in sweeping skepticism.

When it comes to being grateful
I’ve got loads of thankfulness
and the only times I grumble
are on days containing “s”.

You’d find me quite impressive
in my triviality!
For there’s nothing more consistent
than my inconsistency.

You see, in matters ethical,
I’d really like to say
that black and white don’t suit me well;
I’m quite content with gray.

Romans 7:21-25