Saturday, April 9, 2011

Considered by God


 Based on the account of Abraham's sacrifice of his son, Isaac, in Genesis 22, I wrote this poem just after the birth of my third child, Moriah. During the pregnancy, I had been struggling for months with the unsettling thought that I or this child would die during the delivery. With no evidence to support such a concern, I nonetheless could not shake the sense of foreboding, and when the contractions began, I was settled in my heart to accept God's will, whatever happened. A planned home birth, there were no pain medications for the most difficult delivery of the four; I was about to be transported to the hospital when through an intense intervention by the midwife, the baby was safely delivered, although through great pain. During the long and hard recovery, God ministered to my heart through this poem, given to me late one night in bed. Death is but the door to life!

 Moriah
Considered by God

On the mountains of Moriah, a father held his son;
The one and only begotten of the wife he loved.
A child of promise and laughter, he drew his dear son near;
Then with faith and melancholy, laid him on an alter.

From death came his life, now to death again given;
The womb to the grave, the blade raised up to heaven.
A cry pierced the air, “Abraham, HALT!”
I AM My own sacrifice; you are considered by God.”

On the mountains of Moriah, a cross stands raw and bare.
I gaze upon it mournfully, for it is only mine to wear.
Condemned to death for all my sin, and guilty of transgression,
I stare up at the instrument of my execution.

The nail placed, the awl is raised; my eyes close in surrender.
The death deserved, the judgement just; I fear only the hereafter.
The ring of the awl, the sound of a scream; but, hark! It’s not my own!
My flesh unpierced, yet my sentence passed; I’m redeemed from sin’s hold!

A ram caught in the thicket, my Saviour Jesus Christ!
My God has provided Himself as a willing sacrifice!
On the mountains of Moriah, I stand forgiven of all.
From His death, I received my life; I am considered by God!

My water breaks, my womb contracts; in blood my child's delivered;
The joy set forth in my suffering, I raise to my breast to be nurtured.
From death comes life; from pain comes hope: the words of Redemption's song.
My child, I name you Moriah Rose; you are considered by God.


Heather Wathen

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful, resonating deep within...a mother's love, the Father's mercy, a sinner reborn.

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