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The Price Of Atonement

Sometimes it hits you right square in the eye
Like it never existed before;
A scripture springs forward, launched from the page
As the spirit swings open the door.

You see something new in the oldest of script
Or, at least, so it seems in your mind.
And you realize the Master continues His work
Still opening eyes of the blind.

I’ve long felt a reverence for Christ on the cross
And the garden where blood soaked the sod.
I’ve stood all amazed at the pain that was borne
By the Beloved Son sent by our God.

But recently I have had come to my mind
A new adoration and awe
For another who suffered as none can conceive
As Jesus brought mercy to law.

I reread the story of Abraham’s life
And of Isaac, the son he adored;
His only begotten with Sarah, his wife,
But this time I read of the Lord.

The parable clearly unfolded to view
As father took son to the hill;
A son whom he treasured, a son who was pure;
Submissive to his father’s will.

I sensed in the story, the analogy deep
As the father took knife in his hand,
And looked in the still-trusting eyes of his son
And shrunk to obey the command.

Though God stayed the knife and provided a ram
I thought on what well could have been
Had the father been made to complete the grim task,
Just who would have suffered most then?

I am a father… I treasure my sons;
I know how that father would feel.
I’d suffer myself a thousand cruel deaths
To save my own son from the steel.

I thought of another who witnessed a world
Full of wickedness, weakness, and woe.
Just all the more reason to cherish His Son
Walking blameless ‘mongst mortals below.

And when the time came for the debt to be paid
For the vile, the crass, the profane;
This one perfect son was brought to the hill
To receive every whit of their pain.

That Father looked down on those still-trusting eyes
As His son pled “remove, please, this cup”
When the Son told that Father, “but Thy will be done”
The “knife”, so to speak, was raised up.

The pain was applied, the agonies poured
Upon the obedient Son;
All guilt, all reproof, all stench of all crimes
Were His, though deserving of none.

The Son cried “where art Thou?” as that Father withdrew
To allow the full weight of all sin
To press down upon His most spotless of sons
What heartache that Father felt then!

But man was atoned and Satan defied;
And life conquered death for all time.
His olive branch lowered to rescue our souls
If we are but willing to climb.

Abraham’s story brought awareness anew
Of all that was suffered for me.
How grateful I am for the blood of the Lamb
But now even more do I see.

The price of atonement was earth’s dearest blood
And anguish that’s fathomed by none;
Except by that Father who so loved us all
He suffered to pay with His Son.

Picture of Wes Stephenson

Wes Stephenson

Author, motorcyclist, poet, and adventurer. Let's journey together.

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