While pondering my Lord’s crucifixion I feel compelled,
compelled that someone should be held accountable.
I mean this was such an injustice.
He was innocent of any wrong doing.
His trials were illegal.
He was taken in the dark of the night.
Betrayed with a kiss by someone
claiming to be a friend.
Had that betrayer not have done so wickedly,
had he not allowed Satan to beguile him
into such deceitfulness;
He would have awoken as the
sun rose in Gethsemane –
the beginning of another glorious day.
Cursed be that traitor – Judas!
But then I thought, it was the Jewish religious
leaders who took Him, they had sought
His death all along, mostly out of envy,
they so feared that the people
would follow Him, and that they would
lose their precious positions.
It was their golden opportunity, and they seized the moment.
So, without question they are to blame, it’s therefore
no wonder their plight has been so grievous through
the years, certainly they had it coming –
an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.
Yes, surely it’s them deserving the blame,
cursed be the Jews!
Yet, when I think further of it, that was a
Roman cross, was it not?
Pilate, he was a Roman; he had the power to
just release Him – but did he?
No! He had Him beaten and flogged.
His beard was ripped from His face as a
Roman cat of nine opened His flesh.
Mockingly, Pilate’s soldiers placed a
thorny crown upon His head,
“Look at the King of the Jews” they taunted.
Oh, sure Pilate washed his hands in some
menial gesture, as if that cleared
him of any guilt.
Pilate had the power to free Him, after all he had
said himself; He was guilty of no crime.
Pilate is without excuse, he gave them Barabbas
in His stead, they crucified the innocent
and freed the guilty, cursed be the Romans!
Then as they laid Him upon that cross; and “whack”
drove those nails into the flesh of His wrists,
His Blood began to flow ever more deeply.
Then mercilessly again, “whack” into His legs
as He now became as One with the wood.
Without hesitation I’m sure they lifted and
dropped the wooden pillar of death into
a waiting hole – “Thud,” as it slammed
into the ground; ripping His flesh
even further from the impact.
There He was, the Creator of the Universe,
bleeding profusely, beaten beyond recognition
by the Romans; handed over by His own people,
betrayed by a friend, but do you know who He saw?
Me! All my sin, sin I had yet to commit,
though He knew I would – I was not yet even born.
Tears fall, He who sees the end from the beginning,
looked down the corridor of time; He saw my plight.
So very lost in my sin with no hope of
reconciliation, none apart from Him.
I know I wasn’t here yet – but I can hear it as it
comes from His lips, even now as I type, Him
whispering my name, Rocky it’s for you I died.
I’m the one that deserves to be cursed,
instead I’m blessed.
I deserve death,
yet He gives me life.
Is that fair?
No, far from it.
So you ask me,
why am I so big on grace?
Because I’m the one who’s guilty….
I killed Him
I killed Him by my sin!
(Written by Rockman, my best friend and Brother in the Lord; Brent)