Pick up my Cross
I wrote this poem 5 years ago when I was an extremely zealous and sometimes a religiously self-righteous Christian. Working through the knot of fundamentalism that was actually making me ill.
I have changed the poem slightly as my faith has matured and my mind has become more open
I am not a religious scholar, just a girl who enjoys reading her Bible.
I want to share this poem because I can sometimes find it hard to step outside of my own life/thoughts and feelings, long enough to see the needs of others. Having an image in my mind of undying, unconditional love and empathy helps me to be more outwardly focussed.
Before you read this poem, you need to read this.
I understand that the Christian Church is not perfect, I have experienced my share of pain regarding this in both denomination and non-denominational fellowships.
Also…..Religion causes much controversy, as humanity constantly finds ways of disagreeing with itself.
However, I am a simple girl brought up in a simple Christian home. Where I was fortunate enough to be shown empathy and unconditional love.
For these reasons…
- I do not hide my beliefs, as my faith has helped get me through life so far.
- If this poem offends you in any way I am sorry. I am sharing it because I love God and this is my understanding of His love for me. (YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ IT)
- I do not want a theological discussion or religious debate starting on my blog. Any comments left in that nature will be deleted as I feel arguing about doctrine is counter-productive and not really in the true nature of a loving God. (I have had enough pomp and zeal to last me more than a life time.)
Pick up my Cross
by Lisa Lock
Is it so hard to not do the wrongs
To give thanks to Jesus, sing Heavenly songs?
To put the Lord first, whatever people say
To pick up my cross and walk Jesus’ way
His body was beaten and bleeding
Half dead on the floor He lay
The soldiers just kicked Him and shouted
“PICK UP YOUR CROSS, GOLGOTHA IS THAT WAY!”
As He hung on the cross, with love in His eyes
He saw His Mommy and heard her cries
He looked up to Heaven, His Father to see
Crying out, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”
(“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”)
He chose for Himself to come down to earth
His love was so deep, His blood it was worth
To give me a chance, show me how to live
To give up my sin and my life to God give
So as this is hard, to God I will pray
Then pick up my cross and live through each day