Rough Wood

25912D07-9F0D-4109-A379-0C20E5DFA661I sometimes forget,

that the cross wasn’t smooth to hold,

it wasn’t polished,

it wasn’t shiny gold.


It was rough wood,

that carved into shoulder,

a heavy burden,

for the beholder.


Not perfectly cut,

or varnished into place,

yet filled with arms open,

eternal divine embrace.


And yet I dare to wonder,

why my hands are feeling sore,

whilst picking up my own cross,

palms bleeding and raw.


And when I feel uncomfy,

or lost and out of depth,

I think of Jesus stretched out,

struggling for breath.


Because this is His cross,

not gilded and pristine,

but rough wood that we share,

on his shoulders do we lean.

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