I watched in awe, as He embraced the cross.
He was not fighting its disgrace;
The crown of thorns cruelly placed
With blood running down His face.

Pieces of Precious flesh, now torn,
Were trampled in the ground; underfoot.
Blood spilled, with fierce blows of the whip;
Splattered on to the Roman boot.

Every stripe had its reason; being me.
For, the stripes were for our healing; what a price.
His wounds he carried for our transgressions;
Each bruise a reminder of iniquity, sin, or vice.

His arms outstretched (Oh, so willing)
To receive the nails of man in His hand.
Help me, Holy Spirit, to look within myself,
So that I might fully understand.

(The sound of the ringing hammer)
The deafening sound of defeat rang out
Then plunged the cross in the hole, there prepared;
A shaking and thunderous sound, amid jeers and shout.

His face, the face of Deity, dirty and torn;
This was the face of true love
That would surrender, unselfish (with out condition) ~
That brought Him from heaven, above.

I shuddered as He cried out in despair
"My God, My God, Don't for sake me."
The rain begins to fall; tears of angels
And the Father, upon the Roman tree.

Transfixed upon the scene,
My mind fully comprehended
All this, for the love of me,
To bring Him to this cruel end.

He spoke, seven times, from the cross.
But, the last, "It is finished," He cries.
Then, in one last gasping breath,
"Unto Thy hands, I commend my spirit."
Then, He dies.

According to the scriptures,
The sky turned black, as my sin.
The earth rumbled and gave up its dead.
The temple veil was torn asunder
(Like His flesh), just as the Father said.

In the eerie silence of the mid day,
black and ominous clouds gather over head;
God and the angels weeping in the thunder and rain.
The Son of God is dead.

Jesus, my Jesus,
Why must it end like this;
What started out, in the midnight hour,
Betrayed by the Judas kiss?

But, all is not lost.
It's Sunday morning, in Jerusalem.
The stone has been rolled away and
There, in the glory of the sun, "IT'S HIM."

No longer beaten and bloody;
He is Holy, Holy, white.
Therein lies salvation's Child.
From the darkness of sin and hell
Comes Jesus, THE LIGHT.

The last scene unfolds.
It's a nail scared hand I see;
A reminder of the days just passed,
But carried into eternity.

© 2004 by Sandra Griffin
http://poetrypoem.com/inhimthroughhimforhimsandy


It is worthy to note that the nail prints in His precious hands are the only man made things in heaven. Is this not to our shame? Bravos to Mr. Gibson, who was commissioned by God to bring, to the movie screen, a depiction of the way it was ~ in spite of personal contempt from his peers.

God bless you, Mel Gibson, from the House hold of Faith, your brothers and sisters in Christ.
THANK YOU!

Sandra Griffin

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