Tuesday, May 15, 2012

From Foot Washing To Apostle (A Poem)

So now the hour was well advanced for Him to take His leave.
He'd go the way His Father said and leave them all to grieve.
He'd eat the bread His Father gave, the work that He should do.
He'd give His life for all the world, His Father gave it too.

But that the scripture be fulfilled, He should not eat alone.
One should eat His bread with Him, and that one of His own.
The scripture said that it should be whose heel was lifted up,
the one who should deliver Him and that way share His cup.

With trespass now forgiven him, they two could share His bread.
The devil wouldn't call the shots, but Jesus would instead.
It troubled Him to think of it, the woe not His alone.
The one He saved would rue his life, his flesh and too, his bone.

The servant's not the greater nor is he that one does send,
but the greater is received by who receives him, in the end.
He told them one should give Him up, and that one of the twelve.
Although each asked if it were he, no further did they delve.

Except for Simon Peter. Simon beckoned to his son
to ask of Jesus secretly which one should be the one.
So after he had asked Him, the Lord said here's the sign:
the one who gets this sop, when I have dipped it in the wine.

So after He had dipped it, He gave it to the one
who'd just then asked the question. He gave to Simon's son.
Flesh and blood were given so the last became the first.
An end would come to hunger; an end would come to thirst.

Judas only filled the bill; He couldn't choose another.
He had to choose and send that one, that was His new gained brother.
And having then received the sop, now Satan entered in.
The adversary came to tempt and battle from within.

“Is it I should give You up?” You cast that from my heart!
“Do as you've said and quickly now, by scripture it's your part.”
So at the word of Jesus, he got up from his place.
His act of glorifying all would think a great disgrace.

Having then received the sop, he went out; it was night.
With both God and Satan in him, he'd reacted to his plight.
Things of men and things of God were whirling in his head.
The question he considered, were it better he were dead?

Destined for perdition, the condition he'd been in,
he'd come to hate this life of his, he was a man of sin.
But Jesus came to save him, of this he'd heard Him say.
Could He really do it, for one so far astray?

To him it hardly mattered, his course he now had set.
He'd plod this road unto the end despite his deep regret.
He really couldn't say to Him, “Lord, I've changed my mind,”
when Jesus spoke, “You've said.” It seemed as if to bind.

He'd heard the words of Simon, “Lord, be it far from thee,”
and now he had that spirit, from which teaching said to flee.
“This shall not be unto thee?” how could he say these words?
When Jesus had recoiled at them, as not of God but for the birds.

These ideas offered only in my own name.

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