Menu

July 23, 2014 

Dear Master of Honor,

 You left Your throne

   Over the universe

      To come to Your lowly planet earth.

You laid aside

   Your kingly garb

      To dress like a carpenter.

You left

    Your proximity with Your Father

   To resort to guarded communion.

 Dear Master of Honor,

You lived on earth

   As easily as on Your throne.

You wore carpenter’s apparel

   As easily as Your Kings’.

You spoke of Your Father

   As if You’d never been away.

 

Dear Master of Honor,

You did so

   Without complaint,

   Without regrets,

   Without a sense of shame.

Why?

   You did it for us.

   You did it for Him.

 

Dear Master of Honor,

You took

   The abuse,

   The rebuke,

   The treachery from people

      Your Hands created.

You bore

   The load of the cross,

   The suffering,

   The criminal’s death

      From Your chosen.

You died

   Being stripped

      Of Your clothes,

   Being branded

      A liar,

      A criminal,

      A fraud.

 

Dear Master of Honor,

You did so

   Without complaint,

    Without regret,

   Without shame.

Why?

You did it for us.

You did it for Him.

 

Dear Master of Honor,

Now,

You ask me

   Not to be “ashamed of Your gospel.” (Romans 1:16)

   Not just by what I say,

   But by how I live.

Doing everything

   So that Your eyes

      Looking on

   Would not be ashamed,

   Would be pleased,

   Would receive honor.

“For therein is the righteousness

   Of God revealed

      From faith to faith.” (Romans 1:17)

Written October 13, 1988

Author of Biblical fiction, married to my best friend, and challenged by eight sons’ growing pains as I write about what matters.

To receive weekly updates, enter your email address below: