We laid under the cover of cloud and deepening night sky,
feeling thankful for the gift of getting out of the city
feeling the hard earth under our backs and the sound of rain pattering the tent.
And the thunder rolled and lightening lit up the sky.
It is Good Friday and the foreboding sounds make us think it must have been like this
so many years ago.
The heavens being rendered and torn apart as God was torn apart
Our offerings all palid and pathetic under the weight of our debt.
His offering, a cost without fathom
A cost he considered, and found worth paying.
All we have to offer.
Could never be enough.
Like a child bringing a smattering of broken shells
A hopeful provision that meets no need.
Completely unaware of the magnitude of their debt.
We cuddle under the hidden stars, hugging one another against fear
Remembering the darkness he endured, the fear that did not make him run away.
Praising the One who bought our peace at a price we could never pay.
Our offering now,