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It was perfect, this world you created.
And we were as well, made in your likeness, like you and yet not,
For even in our perfection we were still nothing compared to your infinite majesty.
And yet you chose to walk with us,
To talk with us, who are merely your creations.
It astounds me every time I think on it.
And then comes the great conundrum:
In all our perfection, you gave us free will,
The ability to choose our actions, rather than being automatons,
Because there can be no relationship without choice.
And we chose so wrongly.
"You can be like God."
But we already were, in every way that you intended us to be.
We didn't need anything more.
We simply wanted it, more than we wanted you.
The choice was ours, the guilt is ours, the sin is ours.
And perfection was torn asunder.
So we hid,
From you, from our shame,
From our choice,
Feeling the weight of guilt for the first time.
Now we knew good from evil, and saw we had chosen evil.
It wasn't the revelation we were looking for.
But still you came to us, even in our hideous imperfection,
Came to curse, but also to promise.
For though in your justice we must know your wrath,
Yet you would not leave us to your anger forever,
Would not leave your creation in darkness for all eternity.
Your promise came side by side with the curse:
The world will suffer, and so shall we,
But not forever.
Perfection will be restored, the price paid,
The blood-guilt wiped away,
In your time, and by your plan.
By human standards, it unfolded so slowly,
Generations upon generations living and dying without seeing its fulfillment.
Yet the promise remained, was expounded again and again.
"Through you shall all the nations be blessed,"
"A king to reign on David's throne forever,"
"By his stripes we are healed."
Yet after everything, after the multitude of promises,
And covenant upon covenant,
We didn't see it even when he stood in front of us.
Our blindness was so great that we shouted,
"Crucify him!"
When we should have been falling at his feet.
But it had to happen that way.
He had to take the punishment, take the guilt of the world upon himself,
Even the guilt of those who beat him, who spit on him, who drove nails into his hands.
There was no other way for your justice to be satisfied.
A perfect man, an innocent man,
Taking upon himself the punishment that should have been our end,
Washing the slate clean by shedding his blood
In our place.
His righteousness covering over our imperfection,
His death erasing our debt,
So we can once again stand before you.
And his resurrection standing as a promise of our own,
Our new life in him,
And the final renewal of this world,
Back to the perfection you created when everything was new.
It was perfect, this world you created.
And we were as well, made in your likeness, like you and yet not,
For even in our perfection we were still nothing compared to your infinite majesty.
And yet you chose to walk with us,
To talk with us, who are merely your creations.
It astounds me every time I think on it.
And then comes the great conundrum:
In all our perfection, you gave us free will,
The ability to choose our actions, rather than being automatons,
Because there can be no relationship without choice.
And we chose so wrongly.
"You can be like God."
But we already were, in every way that you intended us to be.
We didn't need anything more.
We simply wanted it, more than we wanted you.
The choice was ours, the guilt is ours, the sin is ours.
And perfection was torn asunder.
So we hid,
From you, from our shame,
From our choice,
Feeling the weight of guilt for the first time.
Now we knew good from evil, and saw we had chosen evil.
It wasn't the revelation we were looking for.
But still you came to us, even in our hideous imperfection,
Came to curse, but also to promise.
For though in your justice we must know your wrath,
Yet you would not leave us to your anger forever,
Would not leave your creation in darkness for all eternity.
Your promise came side by side with the curse:
The world will suffer, and so shall we,
But not forever.
Perfection will be restored, the price paid,
The blood-guilt wiped away,
In your time, and by your plan.
By human standards, it unfolded so slowly,
Generations upon generations living and dying without seeing its fulfillment.
Yet the promise remained, was expounded again and again.
"Through you shall all the nations be blessed,"
"A king to reign on David's throne forever,"
"By his stripes we are healed."
Yet after everything, after the multitude of promises,
And covenant upon covenant,
We didn't see it even when he stood in front of us.
Our blindness was so great that we shouted,
"Crucify him!"
When we should have been falling at his feet.
But it had to happen that way.
He had to take the punishment, take the guilt of the world upon himself,
Even the guilt of those who beat him, who spit on him, who drove nails into his hands.
There was no other way for your justice to be satisfied.
A perfect man, an innocent man,
Taking upon himself the punishment that should have been our end,
Washing the slate clean by shedding his blood
In our place.
His righteousness covering over our imperfection,
His death erasing our debt,
So we can once again stand before you.
And his resurrection standing as a promise of our own,
Our new life in him,
And the final renewal of this world,
Back to the perfection you created when everything was new.
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