Torrents of blood fill our streets
We cry out in pain and sorrow
Our hearts torn and tattered
Yet we continue to worship violence
And elect hate to lead us
Living in fear of our fellow man
Years ago blood flowed down the side of a hill
Shed in love and passion
For the lost and the broken
But we must worship the Prince of
Only then will His blood heal our broken places
And His love will cast out all of our fears
I had only ever seen his handy work from a distance. His signature was unmistakable. The Angel of Death was nothing if not a craftsman. This time was different. Dying before my eyes was a man I loved. I’m not ashamed to say it. Throughout a boy’s life he’ll have many friends, mentors, and bosses, but only one dad.
The scene was familiar, the hospital bed, the beeping monitors, the inescapable smell of antiseptic. The situation was different. This stay wasn’t a mere inconvenience or temporary station. We had come to say goodbye.
In the same way that death unifies the human experience it also acutely exposes our difference. While death’s footsteps echoed in the hall everyone said goodbye in their own way. Many said it with tears and sobs. Others said it with a faint smile remembering a special moment or one of his famous jokes. Others still hung back not saying anything though their eyes spoke for them.
Quiet fell on the room as death made its grand entrance. Dad’s face grew pale and his breaths became shallow. The angel of death carries with it an atmosphere of sorrow. The air in that little room became dark and heavy. Clouds began to form and realization rained down. Death paused for a second to bask in its native habitat.
Before the darkness could dominate the air a note rang out. More notes followed, forming into a beautiful melody. Praise and worship to the Holy One washed over me, the room, death himself and flowed out into the hallway. Heaviness lifted, the clouds fled, and death hastened its step no longer enjoying the moment.
As the singing continued death took dad’s hand. If you weren’t paying close attention you might not notice the shallow breathing stop. The singing died and a quiet somberness filled the room. Its job done, death turned to leave.
As we stared on in silence at dad’s hospital bed it was transformed from a barren wasteland to fertile ground and what began to bloom was absolutely glorious. Bright and radiant dad sat up slowly. His eyes focused on the brilliant angel of life who had quietly entered the back of the room. What it lacked in pageantry the angel of life made up for in power. Hoping down and without a look over his shoulder dad took the angel’s hand.
Hear me Lord
My spirit cries out
It cries out for your light
It cries out for your face Lord
My heart and my mind
Have conspired against my spirit
To deprive it of your presence
To starve it and kill it
My mind blasts its light
But it’s light is really darkness
A murky pool of confusion and fear
My heart chases its own desires
Consuming the delicacies of the world
Not the nutrients my spirit needs
Victorious Lord hear my cry
Pierce my mind and heart
Render them useful to you again
Sensitive to your touch and leading
Inside each of us
Is a place we’ve forgotten
A place where we’ve buried
Hopes, Dreams, Innocence, Love
All dead and buried deep inside
When Jesus rose again
He promised resurrection
to all those that believed.
But is that resurrection partial
Does Jesus resurrect zombies
Not in the least
His resurrection is whole
and it is complete
Our Hopes and Dreams
Our Innocence and Love
All thats required
Is that you roll away
the stone from your heart
Humans fail. This forces all those we look up to say:
Do as I say not as I do.
For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you.
John 13:15 ESV