Messenger

by Ken Proctor

He told me...and I speak His words.
He sent me... and I have come.
I am His Messenger.

 

The angel of the Lord came down from heaven,
and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone
and sat on it.

 

Only His directions do I heed.
Nothing less... nothing more.
I am His Messenger.

 

He sat on the stone, and though he saw the
guards, he did not speak to them. The message was
not addressed to the guards.

 

He sent me to whom He sent me.
To them alone I speak His words.
I am His Messenger.

 

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid,
for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.
He is not here. He has risen, just as He said”

 

He instructed me to move the stone.
He commissioned me to convey His instructions.
I am His Messenger.

 

“Come and see the place where He lay.
Then, go quickly and tell His disciples:
‘He is risen from the dead...’ “

 

His message I give to you.
His instructions I pass on to you.
I am His Messenger.

 

“Now I have told you.”
Now... you... are His Messenger.
Matthew 28: 1-7

 

Lazarus

Empty is the tomb where once he lay,
And empty lay the linen wraps that bound him.
The air is fresh, no rotting flesh to taint the air around him.

 

Beloved son and brother now set free,
And free to sit beside the ones who loved him.
No stone to keep the ones who weep from gathering about him.

 

Yet subtle spice and ointment linger still.
Sweet scents of bitter grave from whence he’s risen,
Remind the man, that once again, the tomb will be his prison.

 

But stony walls cannot confine the soul
Nor linen wraps the shriven spirit hinder.
For once again the Son of Man can resurrect the sinner.