THE RETURN OF THE SONS

I have borne scars by the will of God,
And I have borne scars by the will of man.
By His grace and the everlasting power that works within me, I have borne them and held fast to Love.

There is a story written on my heart of a people scattered to the corners of the world
Driven away by fear, pride, and blindness
And of a Father who never stopped calling them home.

A people full of glory and healing power
A people opposed by the most evil of villains
And kept apart because, as one, they would conquer him.

A people made of fire and eternity,
Whose names are written on the back and on the hands and feet and heart of the Lion and the Lamb.
Sons and daughters of Zion,
Hear the whispering beyond the sound of the wind and the waves,
The voice that sings beneath your pain and your version of justice.

There is a King who is faithful
Who not only calls to you but who will ride into darkness for you.
Who will not only touch the flame that kept you from Himself, but who will be consumed by it for your salvation.

I have a story written on my heart
Of a people long forgotten, swallowed up by religion and counterfeit love
Lost in hatred and denial and entitlement
They stand in the courtroom of the world and shout at their Maker, demanding He answer for Himself.

And the Maker tears open His kingly robe and His sovereign heart
The roar of a holy lion shakes the earth
For He already entered the courtroom of the world.
He was tried and convicted
He bore the shame of His people
And suffered the black pain of separation; the breaking of eternal oneness.
The flesh ripped from His majestic body
In darkness, He cried out to His Father, “Where are You now, my Lord?”
And then, in immeasurable agony
And incomprehensible love,
He forgave.
And He cast His spirit into the hands of the God He could not hear or see.

I have a story written on my heart
Of a people awakening from ancient slumber.
They hear the familiar echo from their dreams: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
And in that moment of awakening,
With that haunting cry gripping their hearts and souls and everything within them,
They rise.
And cast their spirits into the hands of the One they cannot hear or see.
And out from the depths of that Great and Terrible Sadness,
They emerge.
Not as orphans, but as sons.

They abandon the courtroom of the world
And walk slowly into the courtroom of Heaven.
The Three sit on the throne of glory and decision
Their brightness too blinding to behold
The sons and daughters bow low, and lower still.
Their questions dissolve
Their demands ignite, consumed by holy fire
And they lay before Them as nothing
And as everything
Their bones rattle in cold terror
And in transformative Love.

The King rises from His throne and comes close
And closer still
He touches them
His hands burn and comfort
His voice terrorizes and calms
Every thread of wickedness is exposed in their hearts
And their cry is no longer raised against Him, but only for mercy
And reunion.

“Rise,” He whispers.
And, slowly, they rise.
“Look upon My face,” He asks them.
And, terrified, they look.
Kindness tears a hole into their hearts
And they remember, finally, who they are.

“I will live in you and you in Me,” He says.
“And you will walk the earth as I once did.
‘Do justice, love kindness and loyalty,
And walk humbly and circumspectly with your God.’

“And I will pour out My Spirit on all mankind
I will fight your enemy and I will win.
You shall no longer be called outcast, wounded, and afraid
But you shall be called the sons of the Living God
And never again shall you leave the Seat of Mercy.

“But you will live on the earth as priests
And true ambassadors of the Kingdom
In unity.
Each as one part of a whole
Never alone.

“And you will sing as you did in the beginning, before you lost your way
The sound of Heaven.
And you will become like Me, the Servant of all.

“I Am the Living Word who was and is and is to come.
With Me, there is no shadow of turning
And the last shall be first, and the first shall be last.
You will find joy in the most unlikely places
As I turn your mourning into laughter.”

I have a story written on my heart
Of a great and mighty army rising
A host of eternal misfits
With mantles of humility across their shoulders
And eternity in their hearts.