Thursday, August 26, 2010
It's not Easter, but sometimes I misread the seasons. It seems like something is nagging me that I should post this.
John 18 and 21
by Gayle Haynes
Charcoal on the embers made a warming fire;
Bitter smoke swirled up and burned my nose.
"You were with Him," a servant said three times
"He had friends and you were one of those."
What threat could my love of Him now pose?
"Not I," I said, and stepped back in the dark.
I could not speak or witness of his power.
Danger was everywhere; when the soldiers came,
I took a sword to defend him in that hour.
What recompense to pay if now I cower?
Suddenly the cock crowed twice and my heart froze.
His words came back with bitter taste and tears.
"You will deny me, I who washed your feet."
He knew my weakness; the knowledge burns and sears.
What judgment waits for me in future years?
Again, beside a charcoal fire, agony was ripe.
“Do you love me more than these?” he said.
Now my fear was of a different type
For He asked me to follow where he led.
How could His amazing love swallow all my dread?