(for Ascension Sunday)
Salvation is a seamless garment of glory,
Woven before and beyond the world,
And stretching along the lines of
Eternity in our hearts.
It is complete, a holy raiment,
Drenched in blood and covenant.
This is the way of truth to life,
Of God and Man, of Jesus Christ.
What kind of a Way is this?
Narrower than a Pharisee,
More tripwire than binding rope.
With all these camels squeezing through the needle,
How then can any be saved?
What kind of a Truth is this?
Honest as fire and
Just as destructive.
It incinerated my old comfy clothes, and my new garments hurt!
They are better, but not broken in.
What kind of a Life is this?
That rips me apart each day
Just to sew me back together.
Until death parts this ragdoll,
There will always be tears.
But here I am still,
Dangling by this thread
Between heaven and earth,
With the scarlet cord
Slicing through bone and marrow, spirit and soul.
I’m too tied up to break free.
You are clothed in the Sun.
Tangle yourselves further up and further in
To Him whom you have known and seen.
There never was a finer line,
Yet the labor is comfort
And the cut is kind.
Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”
(Liturgical poetry during Eastertide is inspired by the I AM statements of Christ.)