When wounded sore the stricken heart
Lies bleeding and unbound,
One only hand, a pierced hand,
Can salve the sinner’s wound.
When sorrow swells the laden breast,
And tears of anguish flow,
One only heart, a broken heart,
Can feel the sinner’s woe.
When penitential grief has wept
Over some foul dark spot,
One only stream, a stream of Blood,
Can wash away the blot.
‘Tis Jesus’ Blood that washes white,
His hand that brings relief;
His heart is touched with all our joys,
And feels for all our grief.
Lift up thy bleeding hand, O Lord,
Unseal that cleansing tide,
We have no shelter from our sin
But in Thy wounded side.
Mrs. C. F. Alexander, only notation I can find right now.
By this time in Lent, I’m usually a mess. It might be less Lenten than seasonal – come ON spring, would you just get here?? – and this year it might coincide with just a major amount of upcoming transition – Scott has taken a new job in Baraboo, WI – more on that later – and a hugely busy March for me – three consecutive weekends away – but somehow I don’t want to miss the fact, too, that it’s still Lent.
There’s a weariness in weeks three and four that will only be assuaged by a Resurrection.
There’s an emptiness as we near holy week that will only be filled as we start the steps of the via dolorosa – the suffering way – and do what we can to know Christ and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.
There’s a fasting-fatigue that catches up with me by this time in the journey… probably the point where I most need to listen, and to surrender. And keep fasting.
There’s a selfishness in me that rears its head long about now when I’m ready to stop sacrificing all my ‘alle**ia’ songs that I had to skip in 4 weeks’ worth of gigs. [BTW, have you ever tried that?? Leading worship for non-lenten-types who aren’t the least bit concerned about a poorly-timed ‘alle**ia’? It was a good challenge – one I met head on, and one in which the Lord led me around to 3-4 new songs (to me) all of which were blissfully alle**ia free. 🙂 ]
Truth be told, though, all of these externals only reveal the internal, which is that I’m at the end of myself, and I’m selfish, and undone, and while I’m ready to celebrate a Resurrection, I also need one.
I need a new begetting, a beginning and a birth,
I need a visitation from the Holy here on earth..
I need a death of ‘halfway-done’, of my complacencies,
I need a fuller, more-completed ideology….
I have no shelter from my sin but in His wounded side.
There, as in the cleft of the rock, I shall rest.
Sunday, April 5th is the Sunday of the Triumphal Entry. Palm Sunday.
I will see you then, ready to walk.