Good Gifts

I prayed to my Father in heaven above,
To ask for a gift that is good,
Expecting He’d give me a sign of His love—
I seem to have misunderstood.

I thought I was one He considers His own,
But how can this be from His hand?
It stings like a serpent, weighs heavy like stone.
It’s more than my soul can withstand.

I turn to the pages of words that He gave—
He promised I’ll find when I seek.
I hope to discover the answers I crave
In One who is lowly and meek.

I watch as He wanders the stone-scattered lands.
He’s tempted to turn them to bread.
Though hungry, He battles the serpent’s demands
And lives by the scriptures instead.

I wait as He cries to His Father on high,
Gethsemane’s trees all around.
He’s pleading the cup of death might pass Him by
As drops of blood fall to the ground.

I wince as He shoulders a heavy wood cross
En route to the Place of a Skull.
I can’t help but wonder if all is now lost.
There seems to be no hope at all.

I weep with the mourners who know that He lays
As cold as the stone that was rolled
In front of the tomb where He’s been for three days.
Is this what the prophets foretold?

The sting of the serpent would lead to His death?
His Spirit would never return?
Was it really finished with that final breath? 
I turn to the tomb to confirm—

And gasp as the stone rolls away from the grave,
Revealing the promise is true!
The Bread of Life walks from the now-empty cave.
He’s risen for me and for you!

The head of the serpent was crushed by His foot!
The sting of all death was removed!
His friends and disciples at last understood—
The kingdom of God stood unmoved.

Each moment He lived was a gift from above.
Each trial He went through was proof
The Father abounds with immovable love
Not only for Him but for you.

And so when you find yourself hungry and weak,
I hope you will turn to the word.
You’ll find it will help you when you start to seek
And learn of the thoughts of the Lord.

You won’t find it promised that serpents don’t sting,
That crosses are easy to bear,
That bitter cups really have sweetness within,
That tombs are not filled with despair.

But what you’ll find there is the Lord’s guarantee
(At times it’s quite hard to believe)
That what you can touch or taste, think, feel, or see
Is more than your mind can conceive.

What looks like a desert of nothing but stones,
Of hunger with no bread in sight,
Is where you learn joy’s from His presence alone,
For nothing else there can delight.

What tastes like a poison that burns when you drink,
And knocks you down onto your knees,
Is tonic renewing the way that you think,
Transforming your heart by degrees.

What feels like a cross and the heart-rending loss
Of all you’ve been asked to lay down
Is how He refines you, eliminates dross,
And tests those He’s waiting to crown.

What seems like the walls of a tomb closing in,
The place where you’ll draw your last breath,
Is where He has laid you to purge you from sin,
To break you from shackles of death.

Now can you not see that the Bread broke for you?
This truth ought to make your heart burn!
And do you not know that He’ll carry you through?
For you—yes, for you!—His heart yearns.

So lay down your life and then take up your cross—
It’s worth everything in the end.
For what you can now only see as a loss
Brings glory you can’t comprehend.

And when your eyes clear as the final veil lifts,
At last all will be understood—
And what you do not now consider a gift
Will turn out to be for your good.

Image by Nina Mercado