Together and apart

We were together till

the whole thing fell apart.

Together on the mountain, called

to be his chosen twelve -

the special ones, new Israel

chock full of hope;

sent out, no money in our belts,

but fire in our hearts.

Let demons quake, let lost ones flock

to see the kingdom lived, to enter in.

We dared to dream

of tyrants overthrown, of wine skins burst,

until the nightmare came

and we all fled.

We were together 

through good times and ill.

Crunching on grain

plucked from the Sabbath fields –

that set the high and mighty teeth on edge!

Seeing the thousands fed, and hundreds healed,

and even several come back from the dead.

But there were times we feared

the leaders’ wrath, stones thrown,

or Roman power suborned;

and times of puzzlement and doubt:

‘We do not know your endpoint, Lord, so how

can we know where we go?’

And then Golgotha came,

and we all fled.

No longer special,

afraid to preach and heal;

apart, unnoticed in the lonely crowd. 

In time we drifted back together to 

the lonely upper room,

huddling together in our grief, 

but torn apart by fear.

So what of me, so broken and so hurt

when told the nightmare’s at an end,

the stone rolled back,

the tide of death reversed?

I cannot trust this light they say

has dawned anew, held as I am

in melancholy’s grip. 

I will not grasp 

false hope and risk 

the crushing blow 

of yet more misery.

Yet there’s another twist before 

my tale is through. 

‘Peace be with you, doubting friend,

my peace, that will transcend your fear.

Now see me and believe. 

These wounds endured for you 

are yours to touch

and comprehend.’

The scales fall from my eyes.

I do not need to touch the scars

to grasp the truth and hail

my Lord and my God.