Bludgeons for Jesus

A cautionary poem for Lent

I shall bludgeon you for Jesus,

You shall bludgeon me.

Bludgeons we will fashion from

the wood that made His tree.

Yours will be the cross piece

and you’ll speak of mercy bright;

Mine will be the vertical,

for holiness I’ll fight.

You will call me hateful and

intolerant of all.

I will call you simple and

remind you of our fall.

We shall bruise each other,

both our clubs stained with His blood;

We will call each other names

and wrestle in the mud.

At last all out of breath we’ll lie,

our arguments unchanged,

and passersby will scoff at fools

less Godly than deranged.

He will still be standing there;

He’ll watch with teary eyes.

Interceding for our souls

with spirit breathed sighs.

Then finally He’ll take the clubs

and make a cross again.

He’ll climb back up before us

And bleed further for our sins.

Then one great day at last we’ll see

that both of us were blind;

that grace and righteousness were both

in Jesus intertwined.

We’ll lift our bludgeon calloused hands

and hail him as our King;

Knowing He’s forgiven us

For every foolish thing.

His own hands pierced and lovely

will reach down and touch our own;

And all will be much clearer in the

white light of His throne.