The Inside Out Chronicle of Golgotha
Ummm...
.
Sometimes when I linger in between the absolutes,
I look toward Heaven for some kind of cue,
But it seems as if Heaven is reluctant to move.
I’m impatiently waiting not sure what to do.
Again it seems like I’m the only one in the room,
Who hears the hushed whispers
Of the unseen Truth.
.
The frenzied crowd cries out for blood,
And the world gets washed away in the flood.
Disgraced face,
Covered in mud.
Flaunting the defeat as though a victory has come.
The broken hang their heads in shame,
Unaware of the Savior’s pain.
His cry muted by their self righteous refrain.
The empty promise,
Of religion’s lost game.
With their spit on His face Mercy still came.
Yet the less we give, the more we take.
Did we count the cost before we took His name?
What about the ones
Whose only glimpse of the Son
Came from the ones
Who only pointed their guns,
And then laughed as all the broken could do is run?
.
.
The skinny kid last to be picked on the team.
The fat girl ridiculed crying herself to tormented sleep.
The poor kid with worn out shoes on his feet.
Sitting alone at a free lunch table
As the populars flirt at the cool kids meet and greet.
The single mom that the judgmental church called a whore.
Like Jesus she stands outside of their self righteous door.
The little boy trembles at night on the floor
While the mean teacher by day berates him and demands he do more.
That same teacher that smiles on Sundays and stands at the Sunday school door.
Unaware that she’s playing religion’s new whore.
Laughing girls making fun of the Walmart dress
That the poor girl wears because it is her best.
The frail little boy fights back the tears,
As the bullying boys punch him and call him a *****.
He cries out for help
While the ones he trusted turn a deaf ear.
.
Will anyone tell these of heaven’s free gift?
That Jesus laid down His life so they could now live?
Those that society says have nothing to give?
Who will be
the example to them?
With blood on our hands,
How dare we speak of Him.
Yet His offer of life extends to us all.
The self righteous as well as the broken all have experienced “the fall”
He mends with His love both the great and the small.
“Follow Me” still
The greatest call of all.
Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2021
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