Remembering Christ – Again
2,431 Views
Comments (2)
Share (15)
Print
Remembering Christ – Again
2,431 Views
Comments (2)
Share (15)
Print
I Prayed
have prayed
Last year during Holy Week, IFA shared the following poem, written by IFA Contributing Writer Keith Guinta. We share it again this year. We wish to encourage our reader-intercessors to reflect afresh on the love and tender mercies of God through the Good Friday sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ for us. Be blessed this Holy Week. — IFA
To think upon His sacrifice
Is far too great for me
His blood for sin it shall suffice
Is dried upon the tree
The pain, the grief, the naked shame
The price I can not pay
He bled, He cried, His strength had waned
I carry on my way
His soul distressed, thrown to the ground
The face of glory weeps
Within the gate I hear the sounds
And drift off back to sleep
His bruises swell, His bones collapse
I freely breathe with ease
His warring angels yet dispatched
My heart won’t bend a knee
Without defense His open palm
No marks until the nail
My hand is clenched and wrapped upon
From deep within the jail
He dragged that cross to His own grave
The place I will not go
The Father’s Son had died to save
No tears of mine will flow
To think upon His sacrifice
Is far too great for me
His blood for sin it shall suffice
Is dried upon the tree
If you’ve written a poem or song you think can focus our minds and hearts on Christ’s sacrifice, please share it here.
In addition to being an IFA contributing writer, Keith Guinta writes on his blog, The Wine Patch. Photo Credit: Didgeman/pixabay via Canva Pro
Comments (2)
Share (15)
Post A Prayer
Print
I Prayed
have prayed
Post A Prayer
Related Content
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
I Prayed
The Amazing Story Behind Joy to the World
I Prayed
Partner with Us
Intercessors for America is the trusted resource for millions of people across the United States committed to praying for our nation. If you have benefited from IFA's resources and community, please consider joining us as a monthly support partner. As a 501(c)3 organization, it's through your support that all this possible.
We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you are happy with it. Privacy Policy
Comments
What if Your Blessings come from Raindrops:? “ Cause what if your blessings comes through raindrops? What if your healing comes comes through tears? What if a thousand sleeplessness nights are what it takes to know You are bear? What if trials of this life are Your mercies to disguise? What if my greatest disappointments, Or aching of this life, Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy What if trial of this life , The rain, the storm, the hardest nights Are Your mercies in disguise? “ Laura Stories” 2011 ( When friends betray us When darkness seems to win, We know That Pain reminds this heart , That this is not our home).
POEM: ENOUGH
Seek My face, You wrote me.
My heart says, Your face, Lord, do I seek–
but I’m really not sure how to.
I can’t visualize faces, even one I’ve just seen
on our waitress or a bank clerk.
Even my husband’s, when he’s out of the room.
Others can do that.
I can’t.
Your face, Lord, do I seek.
( I have been seeking.)
But I’m really not sure why.
I expect You want me to see Your kind eyes
penetrating mine, beaming into mine Your compassion.
It’s kind of You to offer, Lord, but I’m not sure it matters.
I don’t need to see Your face.
I know You love me.
Your face, Lord, do I seek–
kind of–only because You command me to.
Not with expectation.
Spill that tender gaze on someone else
Don’t waste Your time on me.
They’re hurting more. They matter more.
It’s all right.
Turn away, Lord. Hurry to them. They need You now!
I can wait…
I am not seeking Your face, not consciously.
I’m reading a book or on the computer
or lying in bed…
I am seeing something, a piece of something,
in my imagination. What is it?
The upper right corner of a picture.
Part of a face. One eye.
The left eye of a man.
He is not looking at me but straight ahead
at something above us to my left.
An eyebrow, part of a cheekbone,
a suggestion of jaw, a round of shoulder.
A man dark with sun and sweat.
In that one eye, such agony.
And something else: a pleading for an end.
Even without seeing where the taut tendons lead,
I know.
This is You, isn’t it?
Your face. Part of Your face.
Not the part, the frontal view, I expected.
Profile.
Speechless, looking across my view,
You let me see Your love for me.
Not shiny emotion but birth-giving death.
Not Your love toward me but Your love on my behalf.
As evidence of that love drips into those eyes,
running from Your nose and chin,
You take on my enemy, no holds barred–
with Your hands tied.
Motionless,
You rip open the lion’s mouth,
wresting me from his jaws
and out from under his claws.
Bringing me home.
You show me all the love I can bear
Enough to last and cherish for a lifetime.