Over spring tour this year I was asked to share my testimony for one of our concerts. I wanted to share about what God had been teaching me and showing me the past year, but couldn't think of a better way to share than in a poem. It was written on the thirteenth of March 2014. I have typed it up for you to read and dwell on.
Abstract
Is your god an
abstraction? A taste of divine?
Not cut out of marble,
but wrought of the mind.
Perhaps we would balk,
and firmly decline,
The accusation that we’ve
formed him into our image.
But, I must resign myself
to the claim,
That I end each prayer in
Jesus’ name,
Yet don’t believe what He
really said.
At least, not really. Not
outside of my head.
Righteousness, grace,
salvation, and hope
All words I have turned
into concepts.
Wrapped in neat bows,
handed over by the one
Who earned them? Or,
could it be,
That He is them.
The body and blood that
we take—the same
As the one who walked
that forlorn path.
Could incarnation be
saving?
But no, I shut my mind to
the notion.
A careful observation
clearly shows that one must
Live to die—so that’s it.
That’s it?
Christ’s conception,
God-man Himself is of no consolation?
What if Christ lived to
redeem? Became us—exactly.
Sinful yearnings, yet
always pure,
Man of sorrows—acquainted
with every grief.
Could Jesus really know
my twisted desires?
Could He really, really
mean we are united to
One like us?
We are not given goodness
in a box.
Jesus does not point to
salvation
He is our Salvation, Resurrection, Bread. Of. Life.
Our relationship to God
is not about now He thinks of us,
Now, we are united.
To God Himself.
It is not “as if” we are
part of His body.
Our flesh
intermingles—everything rides on that.
And oh! What joy it
brings.
No longer mustering up
righteous deeds.
Way to the Father—“Come
to me.”
Truth Everlasting—“From
sin set free.”
Life in me—“Never again be
thirsty”
Freedom, sweet freedom.
Law cannot bind.
Savior, my Jesus, forever
are mine.
Baptized with Him, put to
death in him,
Given new life in Him,
Not I who live—but Christ!
Christ beneath and
before. On my right and left.
My God is not abstract.
He entered into my
matter-covered reality
So I could enter into
Him.
Gone are my chains of
working harder, being “better.”
Jesus is mine. I am in
Him as He is in
The Father. Not hiding
behind the cross.
Not unknown—known in
flesh, and blood, and bone.
Realer than I could ever
imagine.
