The
Cross
My sister, Suellen, and I are very
different people and we have different gifts and talents. We were
both raised in the Methodist Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota and my
sister now lives on the beautiful North Shore of Lake Superior, just
50 miles from Canada. Suellen is an artist, a writer, and a recently
retired business owner of an art gallery in Lutsen, Minnesota. She
wrote this poem many years ago and recently sent it to me and I wish
to share it.
As you read this poem, Suellen's
artistic talent comes to life as well as her devotion to Christ –
many gifts, one Spirit, the love of Christ who died for us.
Priscilla van Horne
Easter PaintingUpon a bare canvasI painted a crossIt was bold and blueBlue for sadnessI added red pools of bloodDrops of bloodHe shed for usIt didn't look rightI wiped it cleanAgain I triedThe cross was still blueThe blue and red turned purpleAs they do when mixedRoyal blood shed for usNow with the brush full of turpentineThe next stroke broughtDrops of bloodNaturally streaming from the crossI felt the tears comeNext I painted some whiteAt first a small dab turned into a shapeA Calla lily emergedIts green stem wound around the crossBehold! He died for us
Suellen Kruse
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