My rusting chains
    enslave me.

    i am beaten
    with the rigors
    of life.

    i am auctioned
    on the block.

    An ode to
    gold and silver
    is my dirge.

    No one pays
    the Price on
    my head.

    There is only
    one end-
    i am nothing
    to be used
    and tossed away.

    The Son offers his shoulder.

    i dig a
    tomb in my
    Hope’s dark fuse
    lies cold
    and buried.

    Why have i
    turned from Him?

    The Master is not my master-but he pays the Price!
    His heart is pierced because he knows my sin-
    He sealed my ransom with sanguine scarlet.

    My head tucks in Shoulder’s hollow, spent from my struggle.

    Jesus, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, my true Master,
    paid my ransom and more, royal blood for a peasant’s life.
    Pure love, a king’s life for my own!
    All my stripes worn by Him.

    All to Him I owe.

    This article was previously published at Medium on July 31, 2019.


I sit beneath Your radiance,
oblivious to life
except where the shadows end.

You light my path,
the sun dead by comparison.
My feet find purchase.

I remember the darkness,
life before You,
the vestigial wisp of night.

I am warm.
My soul fills itself
with Your refulgent song.

Love, the abiding tree
basks in Your glow,
full of healing fruit that is ever ripe.

The moon dances with the sun
circling in orbit,
learning Your lessons.

I am enthralled by Your light,
examining, searching,
knowing it will quell every doubt.

You are my daydream,
lighting my life,
washing the shadows away.

John 1:9-13