My "William Blake" attempt...

Sword of Truth

He didn’t come to bring peace but a sword
A sword?
A simple question pierces my mind and heart
Making me wince
I don’t like it so I ignore it
I trudge around blindly
In a false-peace fog in this world
Hurting profoundly behind a smiling mask
I sometimes think I’ve fooled myself
Into believing I’m “okay”
Then the long blade confronts me
Do I let the stinging steel cut into my diseased heart?
Or do I keep walking in pain?
I tire of these silly questions
I look at the One holding the sword
He sees right through me, to my core
I relent, sick, afraid and alone
I yeld to the sword held in the nail-scarred hand
Of the victorious warrior Prince of Peace
Prince of Peace?
This is Peace?
If this is peace, I don’t want it
I scream angrily, but it’s too late
I cease the struggle and fall limply
On the altar with no more strength to fight or stand
The surgery has begun and without anesthesia
Then amazingly in the blink of an eye
I see clearly and understand what before never made sense
The pain I’d known is but a memory
Pain was rejecting the Truth to face myself and my own sin
I know for the first time what peace is
I know what peace is not
Yes the sword of Truth cuts deep into darkened hearts
Some hearts retreat in fear from its blinding, gleaming blade
While some hearts welcome it
But every heart will have to face it just
As every knee will one day bend before this Warrior
Who has fought and defeated all powers of Hell on our behalf
I believe only divine dissection can bring
Healing and true peace
The sword isn’t wielded merely for the twisted
Pleasure of some mad, vengeful, angry God but
It’s held in the capable, loving, wounded hands of his Son
The Great Physician
The Sword of Truth cuts to reveal the
Despised, rejected, cursed One, bloodied
By my sins and iniquities and those of all the world
Aquainted with deepest sorrow to a depth unknown to man
He bore all my sins and those of the whole world
On his bloody, raw shoulders, torn by the weight of
A heavy, rough, wooden beam
For a most penetrating and profound love willing to die
for communion with sinners, in need of healing and
Longing to pour out mercy and grace to fallen hateful creatures
He continues to step and fall on a path that common criminals
Walked to meet their deaths
That same two-edged sword is pointed at every heart today
Asking with deepest love the most probing question
The same question Love asked of Peter over two thousand years ago...

Who do you say that I am?


Susie Melkus
02.25.04
©
Ash Wednesday 2004 (When the Passion of the Christ opened)
It’s not Mel Gibson people hate. It’s Truth. Ironically, it’s the pain of Truth that sets us free from our pain, if we aren’t too proud to believe. I know from being on this planet 49 years, pride hurts more than Truth does.