Sunday // A Spoken Word by Moushumi Ann Mathews
The sun rises softly on the horizon,
Light falls on Golgotha, there lies an empty cross,
The light inches, over hills and valleys until it touches,
It touches the stone,
Immense and grey, that held death entombed within it.
That stone, it is rolled away,
The light shines around it, inside it,
It is empty!
No stench of death on the cool morning air,
No weight of sorrow crushing broken hearts to bleed,
“HE is not here, for HE has risen!”
“Come see the place where He lay.” He lies there no more!
Go tell those who love Him, He, HE, is risen!
“Do not seek the living among the dead!”
Remember His words,
This keeper of promises!
He who said He would tear down the temple
And build it back up in three days!
He has done what He said.
He who made, he who bears, he who carries, he who saves!
He who offered forgiveness to unworthy sinners,
He who became sin, who knew no sin!
He who gave himself up for us.
The innocent lamb, offered as the purest sacrifice for the enemies of God.
He entered death, as a willing sacrifice.
He died, and in dying, defeated the eater of men, death itself.
The ultimate judgement was swallowed up in victory!
Death, oh death, where is your triumph?
You have been conquered by He whose love is insurmountable!
He is alive! Now and forevermore!
Wonderful counsellor, Prince of peace!
Conqueror of death, Crown of the Father’s glory!
Lord and God, the Saviour of those who love Him!
So great is His faithfulness that He has loved us through time and etched us into His hands for eternity!
Nails marked those resurrected hands, a testimony to the embodiment of eternal love.
A love stronger than death, more steadfast that the tomb.
Clothed in righteousness and glory, He was gathered up to His Father.
The glory earned on the cross,
That which should be laid on Him,
He clothes us in.
Oh what great love is this,
That I should gain from His sacrifice!
Reclaimed and dressed in bridal glory!
He is risen!
And with Him, I am raised from death to life!
No longer is my future to turn to dust,
To be forgotten.
The one who rules the stars,
Rose from death that I might rise too!
That I might dare to enter the Father’s courts,
To dwell with Him all the days of my eternity!
Oh what promise is this that I may lay claim to!
Oh to see the Lamb seated on the throne!
Oh to be one of the peoples from all of the tribes, and languages and nations that He has set aside for Himself!
Oh to sing His praises for a thousand years and then a thousand more!
The promise, He will one day return
To gather us, to Himself.
Oh how I long for that day
When this child shall sit at His feet
And stare into an eternity of Him.
No greater gift has any given,
Than love, lordship, adoption and friendship
Extending into eternity,
And wrapped in the emptiness of a stone tomb
That death could never hold closed.
Sunday (C) 2018 Moushumi Ann Mathews