Child Of Eternity

3 Jan

He wasn’t killed that I might possess
the gate code of heaven, my new address.
The cross on the hill was a message of power,
a brutal warning that at any hour
political muscle is in control,
that unless you do as you are told,
live by the rules of political might,
you’ll see close up the horrible sight:
cross after cross on Golgotha Hill,
put there to warn and completely instill
fear as the force that defines our days,
a warning that power, in so many ways,
will prevail and have the last say.

He wasn’t killed to wipe out my sins.
He died because he let people in
on a truth that changed life here and now,
merchants and beggars, men at the plow,
women, sinners, the broken and lost.
Compassionate love comes at a cost.
His death was a political necessity
because folks like us, people like me,
were waking up, becoming too bold
with the message this man reportedly told,
the absurd idea that we could be
restored to life, released, set free
in spirit and mind, in heart and soul
even if power exerted control,
and their swords ran red with blood.

He didn’t buy me a place in the sky.
He offered me hope so that I could try
to live my life with dignity,
to look upon life and clearly see
that compassionate love sets me free,
transforms my mind, recreates in me
a determined will to stand up and be
stronger than whips, unafraid of power,
convinced that in this very hour
his words have changed my life.

He wasn’t killed to save my soul.
That happened the minute I was told
that life is more than power and hate,
that I possess a different fate,
that in my struggles, worries and fears,
his presence and power are always near.
My life, eternal, began that day
when I stood in that crowd and heard him say
that I am a person of value and worth,
that I matter to God, that right here on earth.
I have new eyes with which I can see
a vision of life that was meant to be.
Imagine that! God loves me!
I am alive! I am set free!
I am a child of eternity.

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