My life was everything short of perfection until He walked in
He took my hands and led me to the cross where he laid helpless for me
Flogged with the nine-tailed whip, a crown of thorns was forced onto His head
His eyes burned as the blood from His head dripped down his face
He couldn’t see their faces, yet he loved them.
The nails driven into His wrists
Pierced the nerves running through His arms
Weak and frail as He was, yet strengthened by love.
I saw Him and all that He did,
Like fire, it burnt my heart to know I was the reason for His suffering
Guilty as charged, yet His words to me were
”Now is the day of your salvation”,
Those words came so soothing, purifying the crimson my heart was soaked in
His life spelt L-O-V-E and left a message
Not carved in stone or parchment scroll,
Each act of love, each word of grace
Etched in heart, in mind, in soul.
I try to write His words in ink and share it to all,
Though my ink may fade and the pages tear,
My faithful life will speak of His love,
Not by my strength or worldly might,
But by His grace and light
I may not write with ink and quill Nor speak from pulpits standing still,
But in the quiet paths I tread,
A living epistle shall be read.
To the one who reads my epistle
Though your heart be depraved and hard as stone
The love I sing of will make your heart of stone into flesh
Give ears to the song I sing
It’s nothing more than four letters of the alphabet
If your heart will listen
It’s worth more than an orchestra of four thousand
I found a love that constrained me to love
To show through my living, His definition of love,
Expressed to men unworthy
I found my first love,
So that people through me, will find their first love again
I’ll talk less and show more
Each act of love, each word of grace
Etched in heart, in mind, in soul
Will be an Epistle of love
MARANATHA!