I have no need He cannot fill
I have no hunger He can’t feed
I have no anger He can’t feel
I have no wound He cannot heal

He left a throne, born in a stall
He left it all for flesh and bone

I have no fear He cannot quell
I have no hell He can’t defeat
I have no hate He can’t out-love
I have no fate He cannot mete

He learned afresh of want and pain,
His loss to gain for bone and flesh

I have no thirst He cannot quench
I have no tears He cannot dry
I have no thought He cannot know
I have no word He cannot hear

From birth in creche to cross of wood,
Sin He withstood for blood and flesh

I have no work He did not give
I have no will His love can’t move
I have no love that can match His
I have no sin He can’t forgive

His tears a flood; His bones to crush
He gave His flesh; He gave His blood

It isn’t just that He would die;
That it was He who had to give;
Or that He’d live to make all just;
It’s that He’d do it all for me
It’s that He’d do it just for me

I answered the altar call
and Jesus wasn’t there
and I melted, disappointed,
but was determined to find Him
and I did.

But His look still said,
“You stay here and help.
I have to go.
Someone else just answered
the altar call.”

– for my friend Mike

Upon three nails
is lifted up
the Son of God Most High;
in pain,
in shame
is pinioned there to die;
is forced to sup
midst soldiers’ rails.

Upon those pins
He hangs, and pleads
with them His thirst to slake;
they prod
our God –
relief He will not take
that their sponge bleeds –
but all our sins.

Upon three nails
which bear the weight
of every wrong we’ve wrought,
He drinks
and sinks
beneath its bitter draught;
each drop, our fate
as His life fails.

Too much a task;
far too much weight
to ask three nails to bear …
while we
go free
He drinks damnation there;
He does not wait
for us to ask.

Upon three nails
is wrath suspended,
the thirst for justice, quenched.
His love
must prove
a life like His, with such blood drenched,
cannot be ended
upon three nails.

© 2000, WKB

“We’re at church to worship,” we gather and say
“Here for God’s fellowship, to sing and to pray;
“Here to praise heaven, to pledge to obey;
“To cast out the leaven, to hasten His Day.”

Some come here to lead and some to be led;
While some want to feed and some to be fed;
Some come on behalf of loved ones long-dead;
Some seek their best half and then hope to be wed;

Some come to critique and to stir up some strife;
Some beg them “be meek — and put down the knife”;
Some seek the mystique of a spiritual life;
Some are just weak, and their troubles are rife.

Some come as they must, and some as they’re free;
With sackcloth and dust or upon bended knee,
Or with new suits to preen or loud shouts of glee,
Some come to be seen and some others to see.

Most all come for learning; a few come to teach;
Some just feel a yearning that’s unique to each;
A few, to be preached to … and someone, to preach;
A few, to reach out to the few beyond reach.

“You’re here for each other,” the Savior might say
“To love one another … I designed church that way.
“They’re important, you know — all the roles that you play.
“Otherwise, you could go to your closets and pray.”

— Author known, but not telling