At the crucifixion, all the sins of the world landed on Jesus, the ultimate sacrifice freely given by the unblemished Lamb of God – God’s Son, Who took all our blemishes to His grave, left them there, and, on Easter, arose without them.
If, however, we think all the blame of this landed on Judas, the definitive betrayer, we would be wrong. For, as Jesus carried our sins, Judas carried our blame.
Hopefully, this poem, published decades ago in A Time of Singing will help to clarify.
Is It I, Lord?
I, who love you more
than others, more than self,
deceive you? Never!
An enemy perhaps – or a friend,
(trying to be kind, you understand.)
But not you, Lord.
Oh, no! Oh, no, not you.
Then who or what or how
will someone else
betray you now?
Through hurting words –
cruel cutting swords
of eyes or lies, deceiving...?
In their own righteousness,
believing...?
Oh, my God! My
God, it is I!
It is I
who crucify.
©1984, Mary Sayler
No comments:
Post a Comment