Category: Easter

Behold

It’s easy to behold something
when we find it beautiful.
A newborn, a rainbow, a sunset,
one quick glance, then in were pulled.

But how do we behold something
when we find it ugly, horrendous?
Our eyes want to turn away, against
anything that will offend us.

But Pilate ordered, “Behold the Man!”
dressed in royal robes, a crown in place.
But the King wasn’t presentable,
or royal, as blood gushed down His face.

Why would we behold such a sight?
A Man who’d done no wrong, tried
as a criminal, seen as a fraud—
Through Judas’s betrayal and pride.

Why should we behold the Man?
Beaten, ridiculed, nailed to the cross,
tortured and mocked, silent as a Lamb,
the Son of God killed—a tragedy, a loss.

We should behold Jesus, His death, the cross
in all of its horror, in all of its beauty.
Opposite emotions, true at once,
because of what He did for you and me.

Behold the Man, behold your sins on Him.
Recognize the wrongs you have done.
But, see the beauty, see the grace,
See the war that’s already won.

Behold the Resurrection, behold your Salvation,
God’s gift of love for you to take.
Believe on Him, take it in,
A new you He’s ready to make.

The Christmas Lamb

A simple sheep, a little lamb,
With fleece so soft and white.
Small and frail, innocent, pure,
Born into a bigger plan.

To protect, to keep perfect and safe,
Shepherds would wrap his legs with care
Single strips of swaddling cloths,
Holding and shaping each precious limb.

Stronger he grew, frolicking and grazing,
Always under the shepherd’s watch,
Until the time came for inspection,
Until the time came for sacrifice.  

A sweet baby boy, a little child,
Born among the sheep and cattle,
Came from a virgin, a young girl,
And rested in a cold, stone cradle.

She wrapped Him in the same cloths,
The shepherds used for the sheep,
And laid him down in hay that poked,
Like the thorns of His future crown.

He grew into a man and began His ministry,
Performing miracles, preaching, and leading,
Until the world turned against Him,
Until they all demanded crucifixion.   

Like the sheep led to slaughter,
He followed with no complaint.
The Lamb of God died on the cross,
Forever taking the sheep’s place.

He returned to the bed of stone,
This time a tomb, instead of a cradle,
Wrapped again in simple cloths,
Laid down and placed for final rest.

But on the third day, He rose again,
Defeating death and darkness at once.
The little child, of humble birth,
Destroyed the hold of the serpent’s curse.

The perfect Prince took our place,
And died the death He didn’t deserve,
All so we could receive His gift, His love,
And a life with Him forever.

The little lamb, the manger scene,
The shepherd’s care, the virgin mother,
Were all part of the Master plan, the greater message:
Christmas has no meaning without Easter.