Victory?

We are not so different

 

They, waiting for the promised Messiah to deliver them from their colonial powers

Hoping for the day exploitation, oppression and brutalisation would be no more

Praying and preparing for revolution

Forward to the new Jerusalem!

 

Thousands of years later the scenery is unchanged

Still we wait for the Messiah to deliver us from our colonial powers

Still we hope for the day exploitation, oppression and brutalisation will be no more

Still we pray and prepare for revolution

Forward to the new Jerusalem!

 

It’s like dejavu

 

I wonder what it felt like to realise that Jesus was the Messiah

This person that seemed not that different from them

Who preached loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you

I wonder how it felt to realise that this was it

That there was no one else

No armies on horseback with vengeance in their swords

 

Just Jesus

 

This man who had power but was always using it in the wrong places

To heal lepers and unclean women

To give bread to the hungry

 

“Jesus, you’re thinking too small”

They must have thought

“You could bring this whole thing to the ground!”

Yet he continued to waste his time playing with little children

 

I wonder what it was like for Peter, who looked into Jesus’ eyes and was unable to deny that he was the Christ

To realise that the Messiah looked a lot different than he had anticipated

But somehow, his spirit recognised redemption standing before him

 

I wonder how it felt to see redemption die

Crucified by the hands of those he should have defeated

It doesn’t seem like much of a victory

 

And it leads me to wonder what victory means

What redemption means

What a faithful response should be to this world where evil seems to have free reign

 

Cause I can’t deny that when I look into his eyes I too see redemption

And I see the new world built on foundations of justice and peace and love

 

The new world whose bricks are the healing of lepers and unclean women

Whose pillars are bread for the hungry

Whose concrete is time wasted playing with children

 

And perhaps the new world will only ever exist in his eyes and in our minds

But if our redemption lies in the building, we cannot but continue to build

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