I was told of you from a Sunday school teacher and learned more from hearing a preacher. I was taught of your grace and love as a child but my understanding of you is so meek and so mild. I see you I read you I know that you’re there, but in the long run, how much do I care? You claim me; I shame thee I don’t even think twice about the price that you paid the blood sacrifice. They’re words on a page when I read them in church but chapters and verses don’t heal what is hurt. So I make mountains out of mole hills so I can feel what I think is real ignoring the fact that your reality is revealed in the son that we killed my book of debt has been repealed with the blood of Christ as the seal, now that’s something real. So again I turn to the book breathed by your spirit there are the answers, I want so bad to hear it. I’ve heard all the stories, I know all the sayings, I’ve learned of creation and man’s constant strayings. The earth in a week, the apple we’d sneak, the killings of brothers, the lying of mothers, the flooding for days, the twelve mighty plagues, the walking for years, the blood and the tears. Then came the way, the truth, and the life. He experienced our troubles, He fought through the strife, He remained sinless, His love was endless. The earth was never the same, demons hid in their shame at the sound of His name. Many people would follow as they heard of His love; they knew that He had to have been sent from above. Thousands he fed, rose loved ones from the dead, then came the night for the breaking of bread. He gathered the twelve around a small table and told them that one would partake in betrayal, thirty pieces of silver Judas put in his sack and what he gave in return was a knife in the back. The story that follows is difficult to swallow He was beaten and battered, His bones, they were shattered, to prove that we mattered. Falsely tried, convicted by a lie, He was crucified while the Pharisees watched satisfied. As the stone sealed His tomb, hearts filled with gloom, was this the end, did He pretend? Hope went away over the next three days. But in the world we could not see, He marched into Hell for you and for me, made Satan get down on one knee and surrender Hell’s key! Then the stone rolled, an empty grave showed, and hope began to explode! His promise fulfilled, His perfection revealed. All this I’ve read, yet I still seek the living among the dead! Maybe the problem is I look in my head. The earth screams your glory; my life tells a story about your conquering of purgatory. The problem I now see was clearly in me, for you call me to be a branch of your tree. I guarantee that I know hold the key for your victory. You are the potter I am the clay and that’s the way I’m going to stay, I’m yours till the end, for yours is the kingdom forever amen.