Rage Against The Bondage

There’s a rebellion necessary for life.
A gripping, gritty, bloody freedom to fight for.
(it’s mess)
Yet, it isn’t in the sense of fighting the world has.
In hate, in division, in brutality.
This is the fight of a pine tree to push its way out of the ground.
This is the fight of a baby to get out of the womb, to breathe his first breath.
(it’s nothing but neat)
We must embrace this rebellion: the push, the fight, the difficulty, even the rage.
Yet, this isn’t the rage of the world:
Rage In selfishness, in bitterness, in pain.
This is the turning of the tables, the screaming of the truth, the standing in a silent infiltrating rage,
Of refusing to be moved, to be shaken, to be wrapped in shackles once again.
This is the kicking down of brothel doors, the holding a lepers hand and refusing to let go, the singing hopeful songs in the darkness.
This is the rage of refusing to be in bondage, of refusing to see your brothers and sisters in bondage.
This is the spark in the eye of our Lord, our freedom fighter, our passionate lover who in rage against our bondage, bled till He was an unrecognizable mess, knocked out death with one blow,
So now He rebels against the system of this world, gives us our first breath, shouts on behalf of us, sings over us, stands for us, ripping off chains with His bear hands so He could hold ours,

Because He has to have us.