Into your hands, I lay my spirit.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n So we lay down too.<\/span><\/p>\n Today we lay down and die a little<\/span><\/p>\n For the suffering that didn\u2019t go with him.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n Into his hands we lay the sins of the world.<\/span><\/p>\n The crime of every child born hungry<\/span><\/p>\n when there is more than enough.<\/span><\/p>\n The grief of every mother\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n left holding an empty blanket.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Into his hands, we lay\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n the burning cross, the swinging noose,<\/span><\/p>\n the call to build a barricade, a higher wall;<\/span><\/p>\n and the empty song of peace that hovers<\/span><\/p>\n on the same bitter breeze.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Into those hands, streaked with mud<\/span><\/p>\n and tears and sweat and blood<\/span><\/p>\n we lay our hollow words of atonement,<\/span><\/p>\n our certainty that love will fail<\/span><\/p>\n unless it is paid in flesh.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n His hands\u2013torn by our silence,<\/span><\/p>\n our fear, our love of comfort and safety\u2013<\/span><\/p>\n into his hands, empty in death,<\/span><\/p>\n we lay the fullness of our winter hearts<\/span><\/p>\n turning our eyes at the end.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n Our palms laid down; his palms turned up;<\/span><\/p>\n both bear our confession, our vain contrition.<\/span><\/p>\n His hands full of us; the weight of the weary world<\/span><\/p>\n so that even with holes in his hands,<\/span><\/p>\n he carries us all.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n We turn to go; the crumbs of last night\u2019s bread<\/span><\/p>\n now a trail from his feet to back home again.<\/span><\/p>\n To doors that close and a roof that shelters<\/span><\/p>\n and floorboards that know us by name. We go.<\/span><\/p>\n But not unburdened.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The turning away has its own price to pay;<\/span><\/p>\n the laying down, the silence, the giving over\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n It costs us.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n We see now what it is that we carry,<\/span><\/p>\n feel now the weight that we hold.<\/span><\/p>\n We see now: that into our hands<\/span><\/p>\n He laid his spirit.<\/span><\/p>\n Into our hands he died.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n And so we go, but not without heaviness.<\/span><\/p>\n Because now we\u2013 who know his name<\/span><\/p>\n who heard those last suffering words<\/span><\/p>\n who witnessed that last breath\u2013<\/span><\/p>\n we bear the weight of him.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Now we are that body, broken.<\/span><\/p>\n Hands and feet and bleeding side.<\/span><\/p>\n His last words catch at our throats<\/span><\/p>\n as we gather the crumbs from last night\u2019s supper<\/span><\/p>\n and we carry him on.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cInto your hands,\u201d he says. \u201cInto your hands I commit. Into your hands, I lay my spirit.\u201d So we lay down too. Today we lay down and die a little For the suffering that didn\u2019t go with him. \u00a0 Into his hands we lay the sins of the world. The crime of every child born […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1154,"featured_media":10102,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[118],"tags":[2255,2258,123,124,82,9,10,2261],"class_list":["post-10100","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lent-and-easter","tag-atonement","tag-cross","tag-good-friday","tag-holy-week","tag-lent","tag-progressive-christianity","tag-spirituality","tag-suffering"],"yoast_head":"\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/333\/2020\/04\/seagull-768785_640-1.jpg\")
<\/p>\n