I was privileged to spend a few hours in the place called Golgotha today, Good Friday, and observe the people as they came to this place where Jesus was crucified.
As I sat in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and observed, I began to write this poem.
No Longer a Question
Every nation, so many faces
Weary, crying eyes, fearful questions
Teary cheeks, a slow, solemn pace
Empty lives, unspoken questions
Fleeting, evasive answers, always searching,
lives unchanged, silent questions
Bent knees, head low, kiss the stones
rise up hurting, painful questions
Man in chair, red adorned, a priestly crown.
Solemn air, words read, questions, questions.
Brown robbed men, veiled women,
Guards at ready, but always questions
On this spot, or very near,
Christ’s great answer happened here.
Hearts are wailing, souls are weeping,
And the questions cry is heard;
Why this man on a tree, and why oh why, why for me?
Religions created, altars built,
prayers chanted, candles lit.
Strong scents. Rising smoke.
People crying, hearts are reaching.
Dim-lit corridors, hollow halls,
He is forgotten, so misplaced.
In their fervor, in their faith,
Missed the Savior, missed His grace.
Curious observers, onlookers stare
Spectacle created, but darkness is there.
Cold floors, chilled air, Crusader crosses,
Past forgotten, questions prevail.
Decades, Centuries, Millennia, pass by.
Ritual repeated, questions persisting.
Something amiss. Something wrong.
Why the darkness. Why the cold.
Is not this day, this day so dear,
the core of our belief, the pillar of our hope?
They peer into tombs, walk by without a prayer,
the silence is heavy, the crowds oblivious.
But is HE not here? Is He not risen?
Their hearts should be happy, freedom their cry!
Not in man or smoke or line,
He is alive, should be their cry.
Hope is forever, hope abides.
Not in a shrine, but from on high.
Jesus is risen! Jesus HAS saved!
The answers have been written, the Answer has come!
Our savior reigns, Our freedom is real,
No longer a question – because HE IS NOT HERE!