Night Transformed to Might

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Night Transformed to Might

Did you feel trapped in your tomb,
wrapped up in my insolence?
Dead to sin, dead to me,
just plain dead.
You surely dreaded God’s abandonment,
and I haven’t been there for you, either.
I love you, but am so inconsistent
in showing what I say.

Why do you still believe in me?
Still stay when I lie,
and lie down in my own tomb,
avoiding your offer
to leap at Easter
into dazzling light and life?

You said I can’t go where you go,
but you’ll never leave.
It’s nuts, but I understand.
Made in your image, though flawed,
I’m a part of you,
and you can no more deny me
than disown yourself.

But why?
Why choose to ransom me?
Rescue someone who resists release?
Why do you even bother?
I crave you, yet turn you down,
not ready for sainthood
and sold-out salvation.

Jesus, you know who I am
and what I give,
which is not near my potential.
And yet we seek each other
like Easter’s dawn –
night transformed to might.

Joy Solacetree Wilson
30 March, 2013


About the Author:

I never have found a box that fits me, so I follow Jesus into the wild. My husband, Bud, and I are two life-long hippies, parents of four grown children, and live in Bartlett, TN, with six cats, two dogs, and no TV. We are voracious readers and have loaded bookshelves in every room in the house except the kitchen and bathrooms. As a wordsmith, I write in long-hand everyday and use a computer by necessity. I am part of an eclectic group of Jesus-followers called Outlaw Preachers and have a passion for prison ministry. I am also an advocate for middle-aged and senior women, and anyone who suffers from depression. My musical tastes include Stevie Ray Vaughn, Joni Mitchell, old scratchy-record blues, and the great classical sacred choral works. One other thing: dark chocolate and garlic are major food groups, but not together.

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