Lyrical Logic

This is not a “you have to believe what I do and that’s the only right answer” place. So if you’re here because of a random tag, and you’re going to start an argument, see your way out.

Okay, now that it’s the real ones here, hi. I’m so sorry to do this to you. I was actually disappointed in my Holy Week services this year. I’ll own it. I really, really was. It didn’t feel authentic. It felt like we were going through the motions.

For anyone new here, I just run the tech on Sunday mornings and for special stuff. Nothing crazy.

But I got home from Good Friday service, and I felt…empty. Not the normal kind of Good Friday empty where the weight of the crucifixion is heavy. But like I had been robbed of the story. So, I took a few hits off Loretta (side note, it’s just going to be easier if I tell you it’s my vape battery, THC baby), and I wrote.

I didn’t pick one Gospel lesson to read. I read them all. I know them all, I just needed to “hear” them again. And I read and I wrote and I figured out my favorite pieces, and I came up with the following. I’m no theologian. I’m no pastor or priest or nun or bishop or father. I represent no denomination, but I am a United Methodist. And I wrote this because I was disappointed in the lack of emotion that went into this Good Friday service. Not just in the message, but in the music. We didn’t sing “Were You There” and frankly that should be a crime.

So, if you want to read the raw version of the crucifixion, feel free to keep reading. If not, thanks for reading this far. And thanks for not turning this into a screaming match.

The night before he
prayed in the garden.
"Abba,"
he called, "take
this fate from me,
but only if you
want to." 

One of the men
he was friends with
betrayed him later.
30 pieces of silver
was all it had taken. 

He would go before 
the church elders,
you know the ones that
refuse to allow any
sort of change,
and be
taken to the judge
to be sentenced to
death because they
couldn’t kill him.
The state had to. 

The judge washed 
his hands of the 
matter and did
what the people wanted.
And so the sentence
was given. 
Jesus was to be
put to death. 

He carried the cross
alone. 
He refused the drug
to numb the pain. 
He needed to feel it all.
Eventually, he had
to drink the vinegar. 


Up on the cross,
a nail through each
wrist and one through
his feet, though 
no bones were broken, 
Jesus cried out, 
"Eloi, Eloi,
lema sabachthani?"
My God, my God,
why have you
forsaken
me?"
I mean, I know
Jesus was perfect,
but I would have
cried out too. 
Later he would 
ask for their forgiveness,
because they didn't know
what they were doing.
And with one last breath,
he simply said, 
"It is finished." 

My Savior was crucified
for the shit I've done
and will do,
when he was absolutely
perfect. 
And because he 
conquered Hell, 
probably was arguing
with the devil about
who got who,
I have been given that 
resurrected, 
everlasting,
life. 

Sunday when the women,
who really need more credit
in this story,
will find the tomb empty. 
They will be the first to share 
the good news that
Christ has risen.
He has risen indeed. 

I'm ready for the empty tomb.
But I'll sit with the darkness
of Jesus' death first. 

Happy Easter, y’all. Whether you’re in it for the bunny and the chocolate (because same) or you’re in the “He is Risen!” crowd, I hope you have a beautiful day. As for me? I’ve got a Chicken Bacon Ranch sandwich to make and some comfort shows to watch. I’ll catch you on Tuesday for your regularly scheduled programming.