Death is the enemy of creation. It has no regard for the beauty or the goodness of life. Death sweeps through the gardens of life, destroying the lilies and the roses, the weeds and thistles. Flowers hide their beauty beneath green leaves, blushing unseen. But the sting of death, caring nothing for their beauty and fragrance, withers them instantly with its burning breath and frosty arrogance.
When death passes by, watchful eyes close to darkness, except those born into the light of the cross. When the cold winds come, they chill us even to the marrow. The rider on the pale horse tramples underfoot the weak and the mighty. Thundering hoofbeats wake the worms that gnaw on the dead for survival. Death reduces man to ashes.
The wealthy must join the poor in death, for he has never enough to bribe destruction. The worm devours all flesh. Death rides the storm.
When all is said and done, death itself shall die and live no more… and death, by dying, death slew. Corruption must become incorruptible in life everlasting. Death is but a fiery chariot that ascends to God. Don’t fear. Don’t hide. Take the eternal ride to the Savior’s side.
The blushes of embarrassment; the tears of gratitude and appreciation. Oh, how I adore the sacred position wherein I stand as a new creature, born a second time into the family of God Himself.
I am fashioned as a man, made in the soul-image of God. I was first born to die, then born to live forever. I am full of lowly wonder, humbled because I am but a sinner saved by grace – saved by Christ’s death and resurrection, saved while lost in sin, found while perishing.
I don’t feel at home in the present world – I can’t stand it! The aggression, the suffering and greed… the world is contradictory to the life I live in Christ. My ears are tuned to heavenly harmony – the voices of angels and the voice of the Holy Spirit. God’s Word is my delight and I drink with the saints, becoming more and more in-tune with the music of home. I am a new creature, waiting for my Creator and Savior, Christ Jesus, the Lord.
While my immortality remains in this mortal frame, I groan for release but serve the Lord in this prison, for it holds me against my will. Yet not my will but Thine, oh Lord, be done in me as in Heaven. This bondage of corruption shall soon be left behind, and I shall travel into the glory of the saints from all of history. Until then, divine purposes are pre-planned for me as I look for His swift return in glory.
The cross of Christ is the place of sorrow and shame,
for written on the cross was this sinner’s name.
The law dipped me in sin,
a terrible state to be in.
But Christ dipped me in His blood,
and saved my soul, becoming my God.
In the depths of darkening darkness, Christ came, took my hand in helplessness, delivered my soul to the Father above, and filled me with His heavenly love.
If I can write with subtle chemistry,
words of fragrant essence for my ministry,
poetry with secret drawers of revelation,
thoughts that defy explanation.
What little we know that lies hidden,
in the poet’s thought beyond description.
There are inner storehouses, chambers of acclamation,
the mysteries that charm and arouse us,
poetry finds words of exclamation.
The intrusion of sin, of death,
the world that was seems but a myth.
Death is the child of sin and satan,
let there be no hesitation.
Come to the cross that gives new life.
Come to the Savior, Jesus Christ.
C. S. Craig – February 15, 2010