Like You (The God Who Suffers)

 

He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain… (Isaiah 53:3, NIV Bible)

 

For you don’t have a Savior who doesn’t understand your frailty, but you have One who has suffered in every way, just like you—but He didn’t sin. (Author’s paraphrase of Hebrews 4:15)

 

Like You

A man of suffering, known to pain

Came brave your soul to rescue,

But who could know the save required

He suffer sore like you do.

 

A dozen friends fled into night

When angry mob their swords drew;

He’s heard—like you—the hollow words,

Just know we’ll never leave you.

 

Authorities have stalked your steps;

Like you, he knows their mission:

Just follow close, do what you must

To find an accusation.

 

Once loved, then left, he’s learned, like you

Rejection’s lonely ravage;

The crowd—once fans—they’ve changed their cry,

Not him, we want Barabbas

 

Bared naked under glaring eyes,

Assault by word and terror,

He’s felt, like you, the ugly stain,

No beauty here to long for.

 

Alone in pain, despairing hope,

Death’s road, like you, he’s taken,

Where Jesus echoed mockers taunts

That even God’s forsaken!

 

No place, like you, to lay his head,

He’s searched for inn or dinner

And joins the ones who’ve braced for news,

I’m sorry, there’s no room here.

 

And famished without food for days

With stomach’s bloated dread,

Like you, he’s heard the whispered wish,

If only stones were bread.

 

The labored gasp for air, or pain

So fierce no pill can dull it,

He’s breathed, like you, the anguished prayer,

God please just take my spirit.

 

Betrayed by friends—a kiss for coins,

A fireside confrontation,

And, like you, grieved the poisoned cry,

I do not even know him.

 

Confined to cell on flimsy facts

Like you, dear freedom misses

In jesters court, a judge adjured,

We have no need for witness.

 

A stranger child in Egypt’s hands,

Like you, shares immigration,

A refugee on angel’s plea,

Escape to foreign nation.

 

Like you, he’s suffered children’s barbs,

That dude is not his daddy,

Or parent slurs that we, thank God

Weren’t born behaving badly.

 

By illness dread or handmade noose,

A life was put to bed,

Like you, he’s wept o’er whispered words,

The one you love is dead.

 

Beseiged, like him, by lonely pain,

You cry in hope for healing,

Whose salve begins with comfort sure;

He knows just what you’re feeling.

 

 

[Feature image by Geralt on Pixabay.com]

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