He’s in the grave for your sins, friend
most certainly for mine
the God who formed the atom
He who taught the sun to shine
He’s in the grave for all your lies
He’s in the grave for lust
He’s in the grave because we chose
a golden calf to trust
He’s in the grave, His body broke
His side split right in two
the intellect who dreamed up sunrise
and who thought up morning dew
that little word you said
about your friend behind his back
that time you hit your brother
cursed his name for some small lack
He’s in the grave
the One who breathed the life into your lung
the source of love and mercy
on a bitter cross was hung
He’s in the grave
because i wanted freedom and to live
like i was on the throne
though truth leaks through me like a sieve
He’s in the grave because we knew
we just knew we were right
He’s in the grave and He is dead
we’re left with dark and night
we killed Him, our Creator
killed the kindest and the best
and we are utterly in ruin
we have failed the greatest test
do you get it, friend, this morning?
do you get what we have done?
in our pursuit of our own way
we’ve killed the bright and morning Son?
it’s Saturday the weight hangs heavy
and the One who came to save
our broken bodies from the curse
is over there in that dark grave
I’ve been reading a book about advances in science, and in it the author suggests that light is a metaphor God created to help us grasp Him. Light is everywhere, moving at a speed so unconceivable to us who are constrained to one time and one space, that light could be said to be omnipresent. Everywhere. At every moment.
It’s made me think again of something I’ve pondered over the years—if God is outside of time, looking down at us here constrained by it, is there any way in which He is still, and always, looking at that moment of Jesus on the cross, or in the grave?
It breaks my head, the metaphysics of it all, but it reinforces something I’ve felt for a number of years now. I grew up with the comforting phrase, “It’s Friday…but Sunday’s coming,” cast about, it seemed to me, with incredible ease. But before we arrive at that most precious Sunday morning, we need to sit today in Saturday.
We need to feel the weight, the heft, the cost of that careless word, that ignored holy prompt, that casual, easy sin. Because of it, He’s in the grave.
Thanks as always. Wonderful poetry about our faith.
Yes, we need to sit in Saturday. We need to feel the wait. In our culture we always seem to run to the happy side of things. It’s too bad, it’s almost a fantasy way of living. Even though I personally can never adequately feel the weight I can at least sit in it and contemplate it. God has blessed us with this day to do just that.