16 April 2017
Kings are arrayed in royal robes
He was striped, flogged and dressed in blood
Though he was sinless, yet
He walked the road to his dead carrying a cross,
A symbol of our Sins
No one came to his defence,
He who defended the downtrodden, prostitute, tax collectors and the unwanted.
He was a voice of the voiceless
Yet he could not speak for himself.
He who spat on the floor to open blind eyes
Was spat on in scorn and shame.
He who wore a golden crown in heavenly places
Had a crown of thorns placed on his head,
Blood dropped down his face, blinding his sight.
An undeserving death for A King
But one suited for a common criminal.
As darkness enfolds, silence grips the earth
Fear released a terror on the hearts of everyone present.
One question lingered in their hearts, was he really a King?
He rose in hell, and set captive free
He took the chains that held us captive and walked out with a sign
Freedom: sin has lost
Dead has been defeated
Hope has trumped fear
Faith replaced dread and unbelief
He arose a triumphant King
A glorious knight
A Gallant Warrior
A Victorious winner.
He arose, and we arise too
Transformed, renewed, released and restored.
He awaken in us a new hope and a new dawn.
That Only a King will bring.
Yes, he really is A King.
That's the Easter Story.