“Behold the man.”

What does it mean to be truly
a human being flourishing?
What actions must I be taking
so that my heart at last can see?
Where can I go to find my goal,
to find my destiny in life,
to mollify the raging strife,
that plagues me deep within my soul?

“Behold the man,” the answer comes.
The man that does not look like he
provides what I, desperate, need.
This man is one my heart can’t love.
Instead of strength befit a king,
he looks like he, himself, is broke.
This answer I’m finding is a joke.
“O Hear him out,” the chorus rings.

His body beaten bruised, his blood
a tunic o’er his naked formed,
His flesh is chewed and ripped and torn,
the toy a dog chewed in the mud.
The soldiers mock and jeer him on,
“Hail him! The King of Jews.”
The crowd disgust’d, their king refused
for he was claiming, “Son of God.”

Upon his back a purple robe:
the royal wears dried to his skin
So when removed the wounds opened.
How dare he claim to rule the globe!
Upon his brow the crown of thorns,
befitting his lowly renown:
a rebel hanged above the ground.
This man his fate, despair, forlorn.

So this the answer that I seek?
How in the world can this be so?
For from this image I can’t know
true strength because this man is weak.
“Behold the man,” I hear again.
What does that mean, I am confused.
The voice I hear must be like Rue:
a glimmer that gives birth to pain.

But then this man in pain did speak,
“No greater love than this is shown
to give one’s self for those he’s known.”
Self-sacrifice is strength, not weak.
For when the shepherd guards the sheep
He fights the wolves until he ends;
the help not giv’n by hired hands.
For one lost sheep his heart will weep.

“Behold the man.” My answer found!
To truly be a human being,
fully formed and flourishing:
a life of love for those around.
Don’t frown upon this bloody man
His beaten form is for a cause,
His love for all counts not as loss;
in him true life truly began.

Therefore to love just like this Man
we have to play his painful part.
We must be willing in our heart
to follow him with nail-pierced hands.
And here is where true strength does lie:
For those who follow in his steps
are those who boldly accept death.
The one who’s weak true love won’t try.

~ by hankimler on March 14, 2015.

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