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His Abandonment - 'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani'
by Major David Laeger

Based upon Psalm 22:1;   Matthew 27:46


An echo passes through the corridors of time –
to some it has no modern tie,
to some a noise just passing by;
to some it is a cry they sigh
an empathetic paradigm –
and they confess, “That cry is mine!”

The echo sounds so near to every opened ear;
around the world its Voice is clear –
once deaf to God, they now may hear,
for this one Voice cries from our fear.

It is the Voice touched with our care,
that mournful Voice speaks our despair.

The echo of the speech arose out from the deep,
where His descent had met our need,
our vile depravity to reach.
It made the fires of Hell retreat,
it crossed the line to fill the breach
between the Lord and souls so weak.

The echo traces back to one dark day now past,
just before Love’s Son breathed out His last.
Three morning hours the sun was cast,
the Cross seemed but a rugged shaft,
the crowds nearby the scene
against the Christ had laughed.

The echo of His cry came not until the sky,
bereft of sun, its light would hide.
Three morning hours passed by,
three hours of darkness would deny
the view of Him by human eye –
it had a ring of things divine.

An echo pierced the air, the day again was clear;
the Crucified from our despair
lift up His voice and was aware that he had conquered Satan’s snare:
“My God, My God!” was He not there?
Or did He turn for lack of care?

An echo before time was known in plans divine.
That holy realm where They reside,
a work like this They all decide,
that as a Lamb for sin had died,
God’s Son would be the Crucified –
the deed was sealed before all time.

The echo of that hour same forth in mighty power.
Though real as bitter wine was sour,
the taste of death did not devour.
No Face Divine would ever cower,
no Father true would disavower
God did not turn – as some avower.

The echo of the Son, before time had begun.
that moment showed that He had won!
The psalmist’s prophecy once sung,
declared from the Afflicted One,
God hid not His Face from Him whom others shun.

The echo of the plea in Isaiah’s prophecy,
described the crucifixion scene;
he said the Lord Himself was pleased
to bruise the One who served our need;
because He saw our sin-bound seed
God was in Christ, was there indeed!

The echo, tell me why the father would deny
the Son, the Apple of His eye,
the Son Beloved in whom reside
His God and Spirit unified.
God was involved on every side,
He saw it all, when Jesus died.

The echo of His word was made before we heard;
no work of God was ever served
without His Presence, though obscured,
not to His sight – our sight is blurred;
nor does on sin go unobserved –
He saw our sin, thus sent His Word.

Now we are saved, for He was heard.

The rhythm of the hours, His enduring powers,
His words, though few, today are ours.

Sudden death breathed from his Face unflinching;
head bowed gently down, He finished quenching
wrath from God toward sin and its entrenching.

From Arimathea, north of Jerusalem
came Joseph, member of the Sanhedrim.
Rich, but secret in his conversation,
now unafraid of loss by association
asked to bury Jesus just before the Sabbath observation.
Isaiah saw this one’s stone-hewn grave
years before Messiah came to save.

Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews
secretly admired the Teacher,
notwithstanding His strange salvation views;
now emboldened, now enamored more,
with Nicodemus, took the body bruised and torn
from the Cross, away from public scorn,
beside it was the time of evening
when a Sabbath new was born.

The body there, the care these men gave,
not knowing how He now would save,
were protagonists on the prophetic stage.

Like then, we too had been foreknown
the moment of our part arrives
when Jesus’ death and life in us are shown.

Will we respond as well, come out of hiding,
handle Him against the powers of Hell,
in spite of danger or self-will?

So far away in space and time,
abandonment exhausts my mind;
to know He was, begins new life –
now I am His, and He is mine.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

   

 

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