If God had an apron
It would be soiled.
With blood and sweat and tears.
The blood of His own Son,
The sweat of His brow from the work he has done
And the tears He sheds for us.
A holy God, He could have chosen to stay far removed from the
Messy details of the lives of men;
Separate from our sinfulness
Distant from our disaster.
But He chooses to stay close,
Close enough to get dirty,
The mixture of guts and grime of human life,
soiling His apron.
But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.