Nicodemus, Part 3 - Revision history

Greetje: Nicodemus Part 3 moved to Nicodemus, Part 3

2008-10-09T17:19:25Z

Nicodemus Part 3 moved to Nicodemus, Part 3

← Older revision

Revision as of 17:19, 9 October 2008

Greetje at 01:44, 1 October 2008

2008-10-01T01:44:58Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 01:44, 1 October 2008
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-	{{info}}~~Nicodemus, Part 3~~	+	{{info}}<br>

-		+	The old man cradled Jacob’s head<br>Against his breast and felt the dread<br>Of giving up his youngest son<br>In death. The Sabbath had begun<br>And now the sun had set, and it <br>Was dark. He pressed against the slit<br>In Jacob’s side to hold the blood<br>And aloes in. The crimson flood<br>Had come so fast and full before<br>His father’s hand could stop the gore<br>From pouring out along the way<br>That led from Jesus’ grave. The fray<br>Was short. The gash was deep. He threw<br>His cape against the wound and drew <br>The bloody pack as tight against<br>Himself as possible, and sensed<br>That, as he carried Jacob through<br>The shadows to his home, he grew<br>More limp. As Nicodemus stroked<br>The forehead of his son, the choked<br>And muffled sobs of Jacob’s wife<br>Were mingled with his breathing: Life<br>Pleading for life. The baby lay<br>Asleep in grandma’s lap the way<br>He always slept, with tummy down<br>And on his face a tiny frown<br>Or tiny smile depending on<br>His dreams. The sudden shock was gone, <br>And now the agony and pain<br>Of waiting crawled across the stain<br>Where Jacob’s drying blood had dropped<br>Between the door and mat. There, propped<br>Against the wall, he held his son,<br>And wondered what he might have done<br>To save his life.
-		+
-	The old man cradled Jacob’s head<br>Against his breast and felt the dread<br>Of giving up his youngest son<br>In death. The Sabbath had begun<br>And now the sun had set, and it <br>Was dark. He pressed against the slit<br>In Jacob’s side to hold the blood<br>And aloes in. The crimson flood<br>Had come so fast and full before<br>His father’s hand could stop the gore<br>From pouring out along the way<br>That led from Jesus’ grave. The fray<br>Was short. The gash was deep. He threw<br>His cape against the wound and drew <br>The bloody pack as tight against<br>Himself as possible, and sensed<br>That, as he carried Jacob through<br>The shadows to his home, he grew<br>More limp. As Nicodemus stroked<br>The forehead of his son, the choked<br>And muffled sobs of Jacob’s wife<br>Were mingled with his breathing: Life<br>Pleading for life. The baby lay<br>Asleep in grandma’s lap the way<br>He always slept, with tummy down<br>And on his face a tiny frown<br>Or tiny smile depending on<br>His dreams. The sudden shock was gone, <br>And now the agony and pain<br>Of waiting crawled across the stain<br>Where Jacob’s drying blood had dropped<br>Between the door and mat. There, propped<br>Against the wall, he held his son,<br>And wondered what he might have done<br>To save his life.	+

	Three years had passed<br>Since Jesus spoke and made the last<br>Wine better than the first. Three years,<br>And everything had changed. More tears,<br>More joy than they had ever known.<br>More peace, more pain; more cause to groan<br>And to be glad. More zeal to burn<br>With love, more hatred in return.<br>More life and hope with ev’ry breath,<br>More risk and threatenings of death.<br>These were the best and worst of years,<br>Just like he said: “I’ll take your fears<br>But not your dangers. Everyone<br>Who follows me, I say, bar none,<br>Must take his cross and go with me<br>Wherever I am called to be.” <br>Together they had found new life,<br>The father and his son. Each wife,<br>At length, had put her faith in this<br>Life-giving Christ, and ev’ry kiss,<br>Henceforth, became a covenant<br>Of three, to bear the hostile brunt<br>Of hate, and blessing in the end.		Three years had passed<br>Since Jesus spoke and made the last<br>Wine better than the first. Three years,<br>And everything had changed. More tears,<br>More joy than they had ever known.<br>More peace, more pain; more cause to groan<br>And to be glad. More zeal to burn<br>With love, more hatred in return.<br>More life and hope with ev’ry breath,<br>More risk and threatenings of death.<br>These were the best and worst of years,<br>Just like he said: “I’ll take your fears<br>But not your dangers. Everyone<br>Who follows me, I say, bar none,<br>Must take his cross and go with me<br>Wherever I am called to be.” <br>Together they had found new life,<br>The father and his son. Each wife,<br>At length, had put her faith in this<br>Life-giving Christ, and ev’ry kiss,<br>Henceforth, became a covenant<br>Of three, to bear the hostile brunt<br>Of hate, and blessing in the end.

Greetje: New page: {{info}}Nicodemus, Part 3 The old man cradled Jacob’s head
Against his breast and felt the dread
Of giving up his youngest son
In death. The Sabbath had begun
And now the ...

2008-09-25T03:40:50Z

New page: {{info}}Nicodemus, Part 3 The old man cradled Jacob’s head Against his breast and felt the dread Of giving up his youngest son In death. The Sabbath had begun And now the ...

New page

{{info}}Nicodemus, Part 3

The old man cradled Jacob’s head Against his breast and felt the dread Of giving up his youngest son In death. The Sabbath had begun And now the sun had set, and it Was dark. He pressed against the slit In Jacob’s side to hold the blood And aloes in. The crimson flood Had come so fast and full before His father’s hand could stop the gore From pouring out along the way That led from Jesus’ grave. The fray Was short. The gash was deep. He threw His cape against the wound and drew The bloody pack as tight against Himself as possible, and sensed That, as he carried Jacob through The shadows to his home, he grew More limp. As Nicodemus stroked The forehead of his son, the choked And muffled sobs of Jacob’s wife Were mingled with his breathing: Life Pleading for life. The baby lay Asleep in grandma’s lap the way He always slept, with tummy down And on his face a tiny frown Or tiny smile depending on His dreams. The sudden shock was gone, And now the agony and pain Of waiting crawled across the stain Where Jacob’s drying blood had dropped Between the door and mat. There, propped Against the wall, he held his son, And wondered what he might have done To save his life.

Three years had passed Since Jesus spoke and made the last Wine better than the first. Three years, And everything had changed. More tears, More joy than they had ever known. More peace, more pain; more cause to groan And to be glad. More zeal to burn With love, more hatred in return. More life and hope with ev’ry breath, More risk and threatenings of death. These were the best and worst of years, Just like he said: “I’ll take your fears But not your dangers. Everyone Who follows me, I say, bar none, Must take his cross and go with me Wherever I am called to be.” Together they had found new life, The father and his son. Each wife, At length, had put her faith in this Life-giving Christ, and ev’ry kiss, Henceforth, became a covenant Of three, to bear the hostile brunt Of hate, and blessing in the end.

They knew it was not safe to spend A fortune on a hundred pounds Of spices that in sacred grounds Were only used for burying The kings of Israel. The thing Could not be done in secret. It Would be the final piece to fit The Council’s case against the man Who dared blaspheme with such a plan, And waste his royal spices on A criminal. But Friday’s dawn Found Nicodemus and his son Awaiting Jesus’ trial to run Its certain course. And then, like slaves, More free than all the whitewashed graves Called Pharisees, the father and His son rose up and took their stand. Each seized two corners of the sack, The father first, and at the back Of bold and weeping women, they Ascended in the light of day With royal spices for their king.

The Council soon knew everything And made their plan. They would inflict On Nicodemus pure and strict Reprisal—“Suitable” they said, “As fits the crime of one who spread The lie that Jesus is the Son Of God and would be pierced for none Of his own sins. And so,” they thought, “Let Nicodemus’ son be sought And let us lay a deadly snare, And then the man will bear His pain for years instead of one Brief moment at his death. His son Will die before his eyes, and we Will bring this damning blasphemy Down on his aging head, and see Him bear it to the grave.”

Then three Of them with haste went to the head Of all the Roman guard and spread Their plan before him secretly, And said, “You may be sure that we Will pay you handsomely if you Will send a band of men to do A deed that Pilate and the whole Sanhedrin will approve. The goal Is peace, and we would simply end This insurrection now, and send A silent message to the few Remaining followers: ‘If you Persist in saying Jesus wears The crown of Israel’s king, the snares Of death will slay you in disgrace.’ Tonight send soldiers to the place Where Nicodemus and his son Enwrap with royal spice the one Whom Pilate put to death. And when They’re done, strike swiftly with your men, And put to death the son, and let The old man live.”

The plan was set, So two armed men watched secretly As Joseph lowered from the tree The body of the Lord into The arms of Mary. Then the few Remaining followers each took A portion of the shroud and shook With reverence and fear as they Conveyed the Lord along the way That led from Calvary down to The tomb that Joseph offered new To Jesus’ family. Before The sun went down, the old man tore His linen into strips, and wound The spices tenderly, and crowned His king with fragrances of love. The garden air was cool. Above, The sky was darkening, and none But Nicodemus and his son Remained. “We’d better go. The time Is short till Sabbath, and the climb Back to the ridge is steep for old And weary men like me.” He told His son to follow close behind So he could set the pace. “I’ll bind You on my shoulders,” Jacob laughed. . .

His father turned, and saw a shaft Of silver plunge into the side Of Jacob’s abdomen. He cried Out, “No!” with all his might and threw Himself at once into the fray With fire. Too late. They were away, And Jacob lay blood-soaked across The path. “I must prevent the loss Of blood,” he thought. “O God, I need Your help. Don’t let my Jacob bleed To death.” He pressed his cape against The flowing wound, and then he tensed His weary back, and lifted him And felt him dying through the dim Beginning of the Sabbath eve.

The middle of the night, a heave From Jacob woke his father from His sleep. The old man, almost numb Because of weariness, looked down, Amazed, and saw his eyes, deep brown, And flashing in the candlelight. “It’s me. You’re going to be all right, My son.” “Is Rachel there?” “She’s blessed With sleep.” “Good. She will need her rest For this.” “You’ll make it, Jacob. Yes, You will. You’ll be all right. God bless You, son. God give you life. You’ll be All right.” “Yes, Father, I will see The Lord in Paradise before This night is past. I’m at the door, Don’t hold me back. Did you and I Together hear that sovereign cry In vain? No, Father, not in vain. By his own sacrifice and pain, He said, ‘Today, you’ll be with me In Paradise.’ I will be free Before the Pharisees rejoice That they have silenced one more voice. But Father, promise me, you will Not fear. The body they may kill, And after that, what can they do? You know their aim tonight was you. They did not miss. They calculate To break you down and reinstate Your fear of man, and make you bow Before their threats and silence now The voice of Nicodemus. Don’t Allow it. Promise me you won’t Return to fear. Don’t let my death Serve their design. Make ev’ry breath Henceforth a fearless word, and plain, That Jacob has not died in vain.

And, Father, one more thing. I heard The Lord once say that at the word Of his command someday the whole Created world, not just the soul, Will in the end be born again. So, Father, don’t forget that when Tonight you hold my lifeless shell, The Lord will break the pow’r of hell In two more days, and signal all The universe that soon the fall Will be reversed. And death will be No more. And everything that he Has made for us will be made new. Don’t fear what they can do to you, Our bodies will be born again. Amen?” “Yes, yes, my son, Amen.”

So, Bethlehem, with candle three, Are you afraid? Or are you free? Do Christian-killers in the news Make you a slave? Or do you choose With Christ that they will make you brave? What do you fear the most? The grave? Did Jesus die and rise for this? Or that the certain hope of bliss Beyond the bullets and the blood Would bless this planet with a flood Of fearless sacrifice? What gun Can cut us off from Jesus? None! Nor tribulation or distress, Nor danger, sword or nakedness. Though we were killed like sheep all day, The Shepherd of our souls holds sway. And when he comes, it will be plain That none of us has died in vain. The body that was pierced and torn, Never forget, will be reborn.

Nicodemus, Part 3 - Revision history

Greetje: Nicodemus Part 3 moved to Nicodemus, Part 3

Greetje at 01:44, 1 October 2008

Greetje: New page: {{info}}Nicodemus, Part 3 The old man cradled Jacob’s headAgainst his breast and felt the dreadOf giving up his youngest sonIn death. The Sabbath had begunAnd now the ...

Greetje: New page: {{info}}Nicodemus, Part 3 The old man cradled Jacob’s head
Against his breast and felt the dread
Of giving up his youngest son
In death. The Sabbath had begun
And now the ...