Friday, April 2, 2010

Hope is a Lottery Ticket I Bought on Good Friday

I have no illusions of who I am.
Where I stand is the only thing I stand
upon-at the foot of a tree, a Lamb
dangling from it, with eyes that see me-and-

See right through me. Right down to my stain-
my guilt-the reason He is exalted there
hanging, naked, like He is wearing my shame-
right there for all the world to gasp-and stare.

Some "joy set before Him" is all I can think
as I set myself before Him...and wish
upon the One who made the stars...and blink
teardrops-mine, mingling with blood-His: swoosh

as in Nike, and the robe that I have won
casting my sin, my cares, my lot upon the Son.


Anonymous said...

Love this poem, one of my favorites!

After Wave said...

Julie's back :)
Love it mum!

Kathleen Overby said...

Julie - swoosh! wrapped it all up. :)

Anonymous said...

...and He endured the cross, despising the shame...
Great poem, Julie! I really like it!
Everytime I feel ashamed in a situation, I think of how Jesus felt; shamed! And He could have called ten thousand angels!!
Your Outlaw

Anonymous said...

Thanks so much for stopping by today. I'm glad we got a chance to connect, and glad to see you're doing so well. I meant a lot to me to know that you still think of Linda.
Jim Wimmers