No one is good – there is not even one.
The front pages of papers of children raped by rapists, Iraqi torture chambers
And we the blamed claim we’re blameless.
WRONG. ALL.
And swelling up inside of us, there’s this pride in us, this arrogance.
And our only line of defense is the sense that I’m not half as bad as this friend of mine
So I must be fine.
We mean well, don’t we?
Yet I’ve never seen good intentions set a man free from
HURT. ALL.
This poor unfortunate soul, filling a single void with toy after toy, girl after boy…
How boring!
This wasn’t meant to be humanity’s life story,
Warring with God, saying, “What have YOU done for ME?”
BOUGHT. ALL.
Hanging out for six hours, marred beyond recognition
In complete submission to the Father’s will,
Still, a proclamation was made, louder than the loudest temptation
With more beauty than all His creation
More eternal than eternity
More angelic than the heavenlies:
“IT IS DONE.”
You are bought with blood.
Accept.
Rejoice.
For freedom has come.
