With whispers and cupped candles (Like the hope in our hearts), Behind closed doors And in the safe of our walls, We speak of the rumors - That the streaming sunlight had brought, The morning rays, The tremulous dawn, The women who mourned, Then the women who saw. In the dark we discuss, In the evening ensues, Discussion of You. Insecurity keeps us securely - We're blinded by fears. So with whispers and cupped candles (Like the hope in our hearts), Our topic flickers, And then, Our hearts stop! For like a match scratched And a flame instantly born, You're here, You stand! And in the gladness gleaming, You give three commands. Your first risen words To this motley band. "Peace." "As the Father sends Me, I send you." And then You breathed, "Receive. Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, They will be forgave. If you retain the sins of any, They will be retained." I wonder, amazed. I was there, When You healed the lame, The man on the mattress, Forgiven of sin. I heard the whispers Indignant as ice: "Only God can forgive, Who does this man think He is?" I knew who You were, I knew Your rights - One with God, The-God-Who-Forgives. Every prayer, every psalm, Slaughtered sacrifice, and song. People of earth to the God of the heights, Your holiness high. So we pled for our pardon, And our sins You to hide. While we squeebled and squabbled Amongst ourselves, equals. Eye for eye, Tooth for tooth, Break for break, Grudges held, Bitterness drank. But You came teaching better. Raised our standard to Yours. Forgiveness Becomes ours? Fresh from death By just a few hours, You breathe Your Holy Spirit, Re-promised, re-affirmed, And You tell us to forgive? What was Yours, Is now granted. We don't have to forgive, We get to forgive. The Holy Spirit power Is spiritual superpower. And forgiveness is poured On our bosoms And flows To the ones we grudge most. A joyful gift that is granted That I can give too. And when it is hard, And the wrongdoing large, And bitterness rises Like a serpentine guard, Your Spirit is stronger And can make forgiveness flow free, And sets us apart As Your disciples, Your hands, Your feet, and Your heart. ~ Sierra Westerholm
This was my first time posting the audio for a poem - let me know what you thought! :D I’m sure we can all relate to the fact that we don’t like our own voices in recording haha, but! It was fun, and as soon as I wrote this poem, I knew that I wanted to speak it for you guys too. If you didn’t enjoy, politely let me know in the comments and I’ll take the hint. ;) If you did enjoy, let me know, and maybe I’ll consider trying it out some other times as well!
Anyway, I hope this poem could “speak” to you, no pun intended. It definitely felt timely for right after Easter… I wrote it after finishing up the book of John, and I was struck by Jesus’ first three opening commands to his disciples after He appeared to them. Especially His words on forgiveness. And it then connected to my ponderings on the Pharisees’ reactions to the lame man’s healing that I had meditated on a couple days prior. While I didn’t do a deep-dive into the Jewish understanding (maybe I should’ve, and still will!), it suddenly occurred to me that prior to the New Testament, 90% of the time, forgiveness was asked of, and given, by God alone. Just do a quick concordance search of how many times forgiveness or its derivatives comes up in the Old Testament. It struck me that forgiveness, amongst each other (human to human), was hardly talked about until Christ came. After that, it’s a pretty significant topic for the rest of the New Testament, and obviously into our present lives today.
And so this poem was birthed. And I won’t keep rambling. Because, after all, the poem kinda says it all. ;) However, if you know any more about this topic, please let me know! I would love to hear!
Have a blessed next two weeks! Until I post again! :)
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