Poetry Friday: “Good Friday”

I have nervously approached this Good Friday. I carry a different sort of grief this year as I watch Jesus go to the cross on my behalf. Death feels painfully close. Because of Jesus’ death, Rob lives in Him; this is cause for rejoicing. Yet today, I remember that this hope I possess came at a great price.

While I know I cannot secure my own salvation, too often I choose to carry burdens only Jesus can bear. I forget that I am a sheep who needs her Shepherd. Today, as I remember his death for me, may Jesus find me a sheep and not a stone.

(Visit me at The Gospel Coalition today where I’m sharing about taking Jesus’ lighter yoke.)

Good Friday

Christina Rossetti

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon –
I, only I.

Yet give not o’er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.

Published by Clarissa Moll

Discovering grace in grief

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