This Good Friday Poem from Abi Andrews is based on Mark 15:16-41
The worst start to any kingdom, the death of the King
Beaten, broken, stripped of everything
The soldiers around mocked and scorned
As they pierced his head with a crown of thorns
If only they knew the truth of their words
The irony in every insult heard
He doesn’t save himself but instead is saving others
Tearing down walls for criminals to be sisters and brothers
The body crushed, the insults hurled
He’s not just King of the Jews but King of the world
The light of the world, Cornerstone
The mystery of God, now made known
Yahweh, Creator, Son of Man
Christ, Messiah, the great I AM
Firstborn over all creation
Lord of all the Earth’s population
Mighty God and Prince of Peace
The one Good Shepherd who knows his sheep
Son of God, Emmanuel
Came down to earth to make all things well
And then
Darkness.
Over. Finished. Done.
Failure. Defeat. Enemy won.
God himself torn apart
As time came to an end for his beating heart
Author of life came here to die
Cursed, alone, body bled dry
Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
We thought it was over, his power diminished
When he cried out on that cross “it is finished”
But he wasn’t talking about just his life.
But the sin and the pain and regrets of this world
The sorrow and sadness and chaos that unfurled
The reign of evil, it is finished,
It’s not the King but Satan who is diminished
The temple curtain is torn in two
Top to bottom, God to man
Setting in motion God’s redemption plan
Three nails, one cross, forgiven
Saved from our ugly and broken condition
They thought this was the King’s assassination
But God was making a way for every tribe and every nation
Not everyone there would see
But there was one man who watched and believed
A soldier responsible for driving the nails
Into the hands stretched out as love prevailed
Surely this man was the son of God
I see him hanging upon my cross
My nails, my death yet his life we lost
This sacrifice was not just a suggestion
But he was pierced and torn for my transgression
This is why we call this Friday good
When our Saviour was nailed to a cross of wood
What we saw as the end was only our beginning,
What was meant for death, meant we could go on living
He hung on a cross wooden and rugged
So I could stand here and be called beloved.
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