VIA DOLOROSA

VIA DOLOROSA

A man rides through Jerusalem on a donkey,
Palm leaves are scattered to the floor.
But Deep inside this loving man,
Is the knowledge that there is more.

The people praise him, "He's Christ-he'll save us!"
And indeed, He will.
But before that glorious time may come,
He must suffer on Golgotha hill.

A man struggles through Jerusalem,
Carrying a cross on his broken back.
Your head turns, you stretch out your arm to touch him.
To gain the love you so dearly lack.

His head turns, and inside the painful, brutal massacre,
You see peace enclosed in his precious eyes.
A deep, warm feeling spreads like fire through your body,
And you see through all your lifetime lies.

You turn to face him, your eyes fixed on his,
"This is the king of the Jews" You say.
Although no word is spoken, you feel his presence overpowering you.
You feel his words come to you, "There is no other way."

A father, The father, who watches from Heaven,
As his Son, his only Son, gets beaten to the ground.
Whipped and tortured for the fun of man.
But Jesus, hurting inside and out, makes no sound.

He falls to the floor in agony,
His mother runs to him, holds him tight.
And above it all, he smiles.
Across his face, in his eyes, peace and light.

Three men on three crosses.
Three deaths, one more important that the others.
Kneeling at the cross, watching on the cross.
They watch, a mother, the Father, sisters, brothers.

The sky turns dark, the world is dim and quiet.
Jesus shouts, "Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabachtani!"
The temple curtain rips in two,
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
And through Christ, the world was free.