I can bear it, Lord.

By
Cheek still stinging
from the slap to my face,
Heart still aching
from the pain,
relationship lost,
Hands clenched,
demanding justice from God.
"I can't believe
she'd do that to me!
I must be less
than nothing to her!
As if surprised by my complaint,
He shouts,
"What is this you cannot bear?
What insult?
What dishonor?"
Over my shoulder then
I see Him look
at all that I have brought.
His gaze comes back to me.
My soul is quieted
for I know He sees.
His bearing and voice familiar again,
gently, like a good teacher, He asks me to say what I know,
"Who are you? And where does your worth come from?"
His glory pushes me like a breeze as he speaks.
The answer is most obvious.
"Yours and you," I say.
But I don't say, for He knew my thoughts.
Then, even though He could just think the words,
He recites them back to me
and the effect is not lost.
"I,
being very nature God,
became obedient unto death,
even the death of the cross."
My soul is satisfied.
And so I say,
"I can bear it, Lord."

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