Would it be okay
If I came and stayed
Somewhere even close to you?
Where at least I’d see the shape of you?
…Wait a while, hear the breath of you?
…Little longer, ear to the chest of you?
…Let me stumble somewhere I’d be next to you.
In the morning wake the dawn with you -
First blink, first light, first yawn with you.
Then face the day - work, rest, and pray
That I’d stay close to you.
That I’d be okay with being somewhere close to you
Instead of hiding in my shame
Scared you’d find me there again -
In some place I don’t believe I could be close to you.
Sweet Friend, I’d rather run away
Than impose myself on you today
Why would someone good like you want me even close to you?
Surely, you who formed my inmost being,
and knows my thoughts before my thinking,
Surely you know every reason why I can’t be close to you.
Don’t get me wrong, I would be thankful for your grace
But then deny you to your face,
Sing “man of sorrows, what a name!”
Then run away from you.
And that’s the side of me I just don’t care for you to see -
You deserve a better friend than me,
You know, someone who’d stay close to you.
But here I am again - You are that better friend
You’ve had every chance to leave, but still you want me close to you.
So what am I supposed to do?
Run? I can’t outrun you!
There’s nothing here for me
Unless I’m close to you.
So if you want me, here I am.
Tangled, twisted, double-minded little man.
Simple sinner that I am,
Please, could I be close to you?
And if I can, then would you stay?
Close my eyes, would you remain?
When I awake, see you again?
Stick around, my precious Friend.
We’ll chase the day until it’s ends.
Saving blood, the wound amended.
Sinner once, now Child befriended.
Forever close, rebellion ended.
Abide
This morning you crawled up, curled up in my arms.
Pressed your head against my lips and then you stayed there.
You watched the sunrise over the sound, held your breath then let it out.
In my arms you found the calm and so you stayed there.
Don’t often feel so loved, but five minutes with my son,
the way you came into my arms and how you stayed there.
Sweet to you and sweet to me, how you ministered to me -
with time and cuddling, and how you stayed there.
Suddenly I’m a son it seems, wanting “just 5 more minutes!” in this scene,
then wake and breathe in deep, and then just stay there.
Now you’re my teacher - teaching me to crawl and reach.
In the Father’s arms to take a seat, then burrow deep, and choose - to stay there.
It's Nothing. He Watches.
A meditation on the Soldier that speared the side of Jesus of Nazareth when He was crucified.
When the soldiers came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water. - John 19:33-34
When I think of that Soldier’s Spear… I don’t think he dreamed this would be a part of his job. Soldier, sure… but Executioner? Putting people to death every day? Did he apply to operate the electric chair? Did he dream about maiming and mutilating helpless people?
He watches human beings raised up into positions they will never escape from. Nailed to wooden beams. Trapped on death boards.
It’s become nothing to him. The shock’s gone, and he just watches… watches people… suffocate to death, slowly. In agony. Over and over again.
It’s nothing. He watches - them hopelessly beg for mercy, or at least a drink of water.
It’s nothing. He watches - he breaks the legs of those that don’t expire quickly enough. Like clockwork.
It’s nothing. He watches - he spears the sides of dead men. Spear-in, spear-out. It’s nothing. He watches.
I imagine he would daydream; like a shield from the trauma he’s been self-inflicting for years in this routine.
He daydreams, perhaps of how much time remains until his shift is over.
Of making his way back home. Of dinner. Of wife, of children, of friends.
But right this moment: spear-in, spear-out. Clock-in, clock-out. It’s nothing. He watches.
Without any hesitation, he walks beneath another cross with his spear and shoves it sharp-side into the soft-side of -- the radiance of the glory of God? And it’s nothing? Not a blink?
He forces the blade up under the ribs of the King that created him. And it’s nothing? No pause?
Moving it deeper into the dead Son of God. And it’s nothing? Not a wince?
Blood and water gush out the side of the same God who once pierced Adam’s side to bring out a beautiful bride. And it’s nothing? Not even a question?
The maimed, mangled, deformed, disfigured, tortured, slaughtered King of Life pronounced dead by a man He had breathed life into, and had been delighted to knit together inside his mother’s womb. And it is nothing…
Does it trouble him at all?
Will he sleep as well tonight as He did on Thursday?
Just a spear-in-the-side and a job-well-done?
Or does it matter to Him at all?
Does it matter to me?
Every sin I’ve committed, substantial or small - did I even pause?
Every time I lived like I knew better than God - did I even blink?
Every deviant thought I creatively justified - did I even hesitate?
Every shred of selfishness - did I even think twice before I put God’s Son on the cross?
It was for my sin that the Son of God died…
And is it nothing?
