I wrote a short poem today.
I was marveling at God’s grace towards you and me, in Christ. My need of His grace and His strength never ceases from one moment to the next. I would love for you to have a listen. Turn up your volume and click the ‘play’ button below.
Here are the lines:
Lord, You have grafted even me in;
This poor, confused, Gentile rebel.
You God, delivered me from darkness,
Thwarting every blow from the devil.
“Make my heart aright,” I cried;
You knew my plight.
“Clean my hands,” I pleaded;
You cleansed my soul.
This is no mere modification of behavior.
You, Lord, entered the world You created,
Lived wholly perfect, yet then slaughtered—my ransom, my Savior.
Death penalty to my sin, yet myself? Extricated.
At what cost?
At such great cost.
Greater cost, none could fathom.
Your lifeblood, Jesus Christ, spilt.
Poured out. Painfully bled out.
To ransom this lost Gentile rebel.
God in the place of man gone wrong.
This, the Gospel mystery indeed:
Amazing grace, my soul receives.
My tears cannot but drench my face
…and shirt.
Death held You not.
Up from the grave You rose.
Sin and death no longer binding, my lot.
This story, Your plan, Your good pleasure, your prose.
Not emancipation only,
Though such alone would be full mercy.
Further. Deeper. You withheld from me nothing.
You called me Son, adopted.
You see me as Your own, and Yours only.
Jesus, the death You bore,
Was no overpowering by darkness,
But Your humble and willing approach.
That I might look upon You and be saved.
You knew. You knew full well,
From even before the beginning,
That I could not bring myself near to You.
For this reason, with love untold, You came close.
You rescued me and brought this Truth to my soul:
In You I live, and move, and find my being.
Hold me now firm, and hold me fast,
Constant in hope until breathing my last.
Whether 5 minutes more or at a later expiration,
May it be that when I die I’m caught praising,
Not myself but Your precious name, swiftly
Brought into the family chorus over yonder
Through the gates, the way paved only by Your grace,
Your loving-kindness, your compassion,
Extended in my direction.
This Gentile rebel you called out to, “son,”
And delighted to cause my broken ears to hear
Your matchless voice speak: “come.”
Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.
