Funeral

Murdered-
said the chaplain. Died a violent death.
As he died to many things
he could become, or he could have.

Each decision made by faith
filled the coffin day by day.
Killed the fame, the respect and the ‘name’.
Murdered the fear, the self-pity and the blame.
Slaughtered positions, influence and success.
Buried relationship, passions and wealth.

Murdered-
said the chaplain. Slowly died
as each day he killed something he liked.
The lonely job of killing
made him think if he is willing
to continue on the path
with the cross on his back.

But looking up to Calvary,
watching the lonely face of the Suffering,
gave him strength to bend himself
to the cross he gladly grabbed.

Murdered-
said the chaplain. It was worth it,
because the One on That Cross deserves it.
Throw everything in the coffin:
fame, name, influence,
home, country, success,
friendships, relationships and wealth.
Close the coffin, put dirt on it.
Trust the One who can resurrect
to bring life to the dead.

It’s a funeral-
finished the chaplain -, the time to
celebrate, remember and farewell.

And suddenly the fiery pain of grief pervade
as I see on the coffin written:
My Name.

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