Posted in Christian, poetry, Reflections

His Grace for Us

With the darkness of the night being chased away by the growing light, unlike the same morning of the year previous; we weren’t heading for the church. Instead the morning saw us gather as a family, with scripture readings of the Resurrection and explanations for children were done. Towards the later morning hours, we had gathered for the streaming of the service from our mother church. Though none of us had gathered with the church community, the meaning of Good Friday and it’s essence were shared within the family.

“But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)

Every year, the remembrance of Good Friday highlights the fact that by repentance our mistakes can be corrected. Being human, to err is an innate part of our nature. While some errors maybe deliberate, others maybe incidental or accidental, or done out of misunderstandings or from different perspectives. Either way, mistakes are made. Some have irrevocable consequences, while others’ mayn’t be so. To acknowledge our mistakes, is the first step and is quite difficult to do so. The second is to correct the wrong, while it may be possible in some cases, other cases it mayn’t be so.

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.” (1 Peter 2:24)

Whether the rectification mayn’t be possible or not, for the wrong-doer to acknowledge the fault is the first step. Repentance always starts from the heart. As taught to us through this day, God loved His People. His Grace has given the chance for one to seek true and honest forgiveness for the sin. That repentance alone, gives us another chance to turn towards the right path. It would be real easy to condemn and be condemned. Yet to repent, seek and give forgiveness is the one of the steps of being His Child. For such is His Love, that for His Children He is always there, bringing His Strength, His Hope and His Grace for times both the good and the bad, the difficult and the easy as well as the uncertain or the troubled days. For through Him, we shall overcome and live in His Peace.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” (John 3:16)

Still Falls the Rain

Still falls the Rain—
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss—
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.

Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the Potter’s Field, and the sound of the impious feet

On the Tomb:
Still falls the Rain
In the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the human brain
Nurtures its greed, that worm with the brow of Cain.

Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us—
On Dives and on Lazarus:
Under the Rain the sore and the gold are as one.

Still falls the Rain—

Still falls the Blood from the Starved Man’s wounded Side:
He bears in His Heart all wounds,—those of the light that died,
The last faint spark
In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad uncomprehending dark,
The wounds of the baited bear—
The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat
On his helpless flesh… the tears of the hunted hare.

Still falls the Rain—
Then— O Ile leape up to my God: who pulles me doune—
See, see where Christ’s blood streames in the firmament:
It flows from the Brow we nailed upon the tree

Deep to the dying, to the thirsting heart
That holds the fires of the world,—dark-smirched with pain
As Caesar’s laurel crown.

Then sounds the voice of One who like the heart of man
Was once a child who among beasts has lain—
“Still do I love, still shed my innocent light, my Blood, for thee.”

Edith Sitwell (The Raids,1940, Night and Dawn)