It Is Finished Poem by nisha dyrene

Lord, how is it that you would wash with such gentle care the feet of men who would run away from you?
Feed with your own hands the mouth of the man who would betray you with a kiss?
Yet, you leaned against the side of the only one who would stand beside your cross, while looking upon those dearest faces whom you loved.

O, how deep did your heart ache O Lord?
Was that why you cried tears of blood?

For you did not fear death…or was it pain?
it could not have been mere physical pain for you slept with no pillow and walked city to city.
You knew aching feet
You knew what it was to cry
You laughed, you loved so deeply, and you lived.
Yet, you died.
For me.

Thank you for drinking the cup,
Bearing the stripes,
Carrying the cross,
Holding the nails,
Paying the price for my sin,
Defeating death and rising again,
So that you could present me blameless to the Father

Bless me with your spirit and take me into your kingdom
when I die.

O Lord, what weight the love you carried!
And how it broke the scales of Sin's hold on me.

What thoughts pierced through the peace of your mind that you cried out to your Father?
What terrible sins of this world you carried on those precious shoulders!
O, with what gentle arms you did the children enfold and touch and heal the blind and sick!

Hands that cooked breakfast for your disciples
Opened and read the books of scripture
How many times would you have put those hands of comfort on their shoulders?
What pain pierced you as you are your last meal?

For knowing all, yet still you came.
And feeling all, made the choice that was right for me.

At what price, Lord, what price?
Thirty pieces of silver?
How many betrayals!
How many missing faces while you died!

It was enough. It is finished.