Monthly Prayer

‘Follow me,’ you said.

Sounded simple enough –

Until you walked the path

to the place of the skull,

Carrying your cross.


‘Drink this cup,’ you said.

Sounded fine –

Until you spoke of blood

poured out, and a cup

full of sorrow.


‘I will be lifted up’, you said.

Speaking of honour,

but a criminal’s death;

Your body broken and beaten,

Stripped and nailed to wood.


Yours is a strange kind of glory, Lord.

To follow is a frightening prospect.

When pain and trouble arrive,

we would sooner run away and hide

as your first disciples did.


Give us courage to go with you;

Remembering that our lives belong to you already,

Trusting that in losing we will find.

Discovering that from death,

new life emerges.