A Poem for Good Friday

After a long night
before a prejudiced jury
His sentence was given:
Crucify Him!

Already beaten beyond recognition,
He willingly picked up
The heavy cross beam,
And walked up the road
To the top of the place
Called "The Skull."

Hammers pounded nails
Into wrists and ankles.
A crown of thorns,
No clothes to wear,
A makeshift sign with His "title"--
Is this any way
To treat a King?

Of those who gathered:
many taunted, soldiers gambled,
a few disciples stood aloof
while women wept.

He gave His mother
to His beloved disciple,
He forgave
And He gave up His spirit.

The ground shook.
The sky went dark.
Tombs opened.
Women wailed.
The earth plunged into
Dismal gloom.

How can we call a day "good"
When it led to the crucifixion
Of a sinless man?
When the Son of God
Died on a cross?

It is "good" for us
Because He took our place.
Our sin was nailed
There with Him.
He willingly went
Because of His deep
Love for us.

And only because of
God's love
Can that day be called

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