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A set of Holy Week poems written and published first by Tanner Olson on his website, writtentospeak.com.
The King
A poem for Palm Sunday
You’ve always done things differently, and they’ve never failed.
Like the time you turned water into wine.
Or like when you rubbed mud on the blind man’s eyes so he could see. Or when you healed the paralyzed man because his friends truly believed. And
like the time You entered Jerusalem riding on the back of a colt,
And they asked, “Who is this?”
And they, along with the rest of the world, would soon know.
They knew you as the one who healed the sick and fed the poor.
The one who turned lives inside out and upside down.
The one who had 12 close friends, raised a man named Lazarus from the dead, and told a
cripple to get out of bed.
But soon
Soon they would see you are more than anyone who had come before. Just
in time - Hope had arrived.
Some cheered and cried Hosanna.
Save us! Save us now!
Please, save us.
They waved palm branches and laid them down so you wouldn’t have to touch the ground. Children sat on the shoulders of parents as they pointed to the one they’d been waiting for. Echoes of Jesus is Lord filled the city as you moved toward the beginning of the end. And we
thought that The King was coming to take His crown!
But you knew the King was coming to be buried in the ground, to bring us from lost to found. Good arrives only to die, only to rise, only for the world to realize
You are who you say You are:
The King.
Even Me?
A poem for Good Friday
How could it be?
That you would do this for me?
Even me?
Your back bloodied and body bruised.
Your hands pierced and love abused.
Your head ripped with thorns; kicked to the floor. I
can’t imagine the pain you bore.
Swollen, somber and sore,
yet You refused.
You refused to run all so we could become
… All so we could become Yours.
You knew that through it all this was for something more.
More than teaching and miracles.
More than water becoming wine.
More than sight for the blind.
More than could meet the eye.
This was to bring the dead alive.
This was to stomp death with resurrected breath.
This was for us to be washed white.
This was for us to be given hope and eternal life.
How could it be?
You died for me.
Even me.
Easter Sunday
A poem for Easter
We watched them take you away.
We listened to a crowd curse you.
And watched as they killed you.
And we stood in front of You as you breathed your last.
The spear went into your side, and they cheered when you died. But
death could not defeat You; sin could not shatter you. Hate could
not put you to waste; Your love could not be erased.
Our world sat in silence and shock as You counted to three before returning.
But like you said, You are the resurrection and the life.
Out of the darkness came the light, Christ, You came to give us new life.
And when we thought all hope had been lost
the stone was rolled away.
From dead to alive, our Savior has once again arrived.
There is magic in this mystery,
An empty tomb, visible wounds.
You rose for us, inviting us into a life of trust.
You came to take our shame and pain, returned to reign.
Replaced our sin and stain with grace and peace
Redeemed by the redeemer You died in our place.
Your resurrection redefined love, moving us to keep our eyes above.
And now we sing alleluia.
Christ is risen,
He is risen, indeed.
Hope doesn’t let the story end.
Christ has risen from the dead.
Resurrected Jesus, our glory.
You forever changed our story.
Originally published at writtentospeak.com
