so there was a spot,
red and inflamed,
that burned within my soul.
it was more than skin deep.
it penetrated to the very core of my being.
as i compared my lot
why do they prosper
i wondered in frustration,
when i am silenced
why does he get more prominence?
why is she recognized?
as i identified my problem
and saw the probable diagnosis
i went to the priest
hoping against hope.
but in the quiet moments of solitude
i recognized the infection that raged in my soul.
i knew the rebellion against God.
i saw the uncleanness,
how could i be cured?
the priest looked on me.
"you are unclean," he gravely said.
something within me tore in grief,
and i covered my mouth
and the word tore from my heart:
and i went through the streets
aware of my isolation
even when in the midst of the crowd.
but i knew of a Man,
they said He had power
to cure and to cleanse.
so i went to Him,
begging for mercy.
and He looked on me
with unfathomable compassion.
He healed me
with His word,
making me pure,
full of mercy,
full of goodness,
He is the bird slain in the running water,
the cedar is His cross,
the hyssop is the bitterness of His sufferings for me,
the scarlet thread is the spilling of His blood--
but i am the bird set free in the field.
He is the offering for my sin, my guilt, my peace.
to Him i dedicate my entire being--
heart, soul, mind, and strength!
Touched by this Poem that was read on Sunday before communion - Before I take the body of my Lord Before I share his life in bread and wine I recognize the sorry things within These I lay down The words of hope I often ...
1 year ago