Day six of the last week of the life of Jesus.
The mock trial is over, Jesus has been mocked,
beaten, spit upon and been forced to wear a crown
of thorn upon His heads. They make Him carry His
own cross, until, weaken from the loss of blood, He
falls under the weight and then they force another to
carry it the rest of the way to the city dump, we know
as Calvary. The Savior of the world, the Son of the
Creator of the world was born in a manger and died
in a city dump! God never does the expected!
The following poem is the only one that is a repeat
this week. It has been my tradition to send this poem
out every "Good Friday."
SIX HOURS ONE FRIDAY
In six hours one Friday,
Just an ordinary day,
The people of Jerusalem
Went about their way.
Some were going to market,
Others were tending sheep,
Thousands to the Temple,
With sacrifices to keep.
While the city bustled
On and ordinary day,
History was changing
In an extraordinary way.
Within six hours on that Friday
The earth trembled to the core.
The temple curtain became torn
From the ceiling to the floor.
All around was darkness,
The sun refused to shine.
People groped about them,
As if they were blind.
On a distant hill
They heard an eerie cry
From the center figure,
That was about to die.
"My God, My God,
Why have you forsaken Me?"
Came the pleading call
From the one upon the tree.
In six hours on that Friday
God claimed a victory,
Over death and Satan
On a cross on Calvary.
But not all believe the story,
That it came about that way,
That God works His best miracles
On an ordinary day!
Freda Fullerton
April 6, 2012
