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Are you counted in the number?
The number that Jesus comes to save
The number of ones who have believed
Even when they couldn’t see the face of the Son of God
The Son that hung on an old wooden cross
At the top of a hill where the sun shown brightly
Held tightly
By the sharp nails hammered into his very hands & feet
His seat
At the right hand of His Father’s throne
The great I AM
Yet Jesus thought it not robbery to pay the price
And denounce his royal immunity
For the crime of sin we have committed
We were acquitted
He hung amongst thieves
Whores, tax collectors and debtors
Soldiers, fishermen, and religious teachers
Adulterers, liars, & killers
Rich & poor
Average people like you & me
Protesting towards Death & Hell
Our rights & liberation
Rising in 3 days
To set us free
Are you counted in the number?
The number of people whose sins Jesus clothed himself with
As layer upon layer of sin ignited a burning fear within him
Back in the Garden of Gethsemane
He prayed, while sweat like drops of blood beaded up
And came pouring down his forehead into his eyes
Wanting this cup to pass
This cup of the wrath of God
That Jesus chose to drink
And drink
And drink
Until his connection with God, his Father, ruptured
No still small voice whispering in his ear that everything is going to be alright
Weight of the world, clearly on his shoulders
His crucifixion
The atlas that this globe, we call earth rests upon
Still he stood understanding his purpose
To take our pain & be stained with sin
Crowned with thorns that were smashed onto his forehead
Being spat, slapped, slandered upon
Stabbed viciously in his side
Crying out his question of forsakenness
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Are you counted in the number?
The number of seconds, minutes, and hours God watched his most precious possession
His Son
Go through the trials and tribulation
The rejection and mockery
The vicious backbiting
Made by the very ones He loved so much that He sent his Son to save
Watching His very child suffer His wrath
For the many He held so dear
Not reaching out a hand to help His only Begotten
Because He understood the sacrifice necessary
That no human being could ever contemplate
Much less initiate
To hear the agony in His Son’s cries
As to why He was forsaken
The pain that shuddered through Him
A fleshly vessel
When His Son referred to Him as God rather than Father
In His last breaths
Yet the joy He knew
Once He saw His Seed planted in the earth
For the roots struck deep into the Depths
Bursting forth from the ground
As the Tree of Life
Bearing an everlasting fruit
That won’t wither in the scorching rays of the sun
Nor the frigid frosts of winter
Are you counted in the number?
Are you counted in the number?
Are you counted as the numerous sons and daughters of God?
The sisters and brothers of Christ
For which this sacrifice
This price
Was paid