Lent Blog 35: Blood/Love

Sometimes, I lay awake, at night, and dream, of days long past.
Of a man so good and true and right put to death, on a cross of pain.
And as I sit and watch this death, I sing a song of praise.
For on that cross, was paid my debt, so death no longer reigns.

And as the time passes, onward, still he looks down at me
and asks why I dream of this, so morbid and dismayed
I stand in awe of recognition, I stand in awe of him
and I look up into his eyes, say it's your blood, saves me

He looks at me, eyes piercing, and so true
he looks at me, as tears, begin, to grow
He opens his mouth, a quiver exudes, why, why, oh why
Why do you fixate on my death and forget the days of my life?

I once was lost but now am found, says I, to him
You once were blind but now you see?, a question on his lips
He looks away as tears stream down, his bloody serene face
He looks again and says “sorry, you missed the point of me”

“It's not my blood that saves you, but my love that saves you
how could you ever disagree?
I told stories of coins and lambs and wayward sons
and of seeking shepherds and fathers that run, where did you miss the boat”

I wake from this dream, so unsettling, yet move away from truth
He was mistaken a dream, not real, not taken
and sing my song anew, of a really good man, who lived to die
so I may live later.

What if, what if, is my refrain, what if it's love not blood
should the world fall down, or the church erupt
from such a simple claim, but I sit in silence and let others speak
as I go about my life, we buy crowns of thorns, and crosses of light
to remember a death, not a life

So hold on to the metaphor, hold on to the words
forget the life remember the death, or so I am told
but what if, what if it's a matter of love, not a matter of blood

Peace and Love,

Pastor K