Crucified in the flesh,
Buried in the tomb,
Risen from the dead,
Seated on the throne,
Interceding for mankind.
This is my reality,
this bone deep,
I know nothing else.
I thought I did,
But I don’t.
Every time I try to grasp something beyond this,
beyond patiently waiting in this
absurdity of grace
I fall flat on my face.
A thousand unknown failures in any given day,
plus the few that cling to me for weeks, months,
And still He breathes the words,
“It is finished.”
And still He says,
in my place,
on my behalf,
as he waits with me in the gnawing, uncertain darkness,
“My God my God, why have you forsaken me?”
and I know that He has braved Hell for me,
and that he is closer here,
than on the days I call “bright”.
there for me every time the tattered shreds of my plans dump me on the ground again,
and I am left crying for the vanished fairy-feast that I thought I would climb out of the depths to have.