The Highest God Who Chose to Bleed

By Joy Axelson

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I fled majestic mansions filled with ceaseless splendor
and cloaked myself in flesh, condensed, to be a baby, tender,
a hated homeless exile – disregarded, outcast,
wailing, waiting, wanting and assigned the lowest caste.

Why should I sojourn, suffering, sweating in sand and heat?
Should you not be bowing low to kiss my dusty feet?
I’m ever vexed by phantom force, fixing feet to ground,
compressed into time and space and to this body bound.

The sun, whose orb I set alight, beats down, burning skin.
Souls of stone betray me, charging me with sordid sins.
Humans, inhumane to all, whom vilest things enchant;
Though their lips spew lies, their every breath is mine to grant.

Outraged at injustice, I fling tables far and wide
for in His holy house, their weak consciences have died
extorting the helpless, worshipping the gods of greed.
My zeal for this sacred space my hungry anger feeds.

East of Eden, now you stand, thick darkness spreads like plague.
I see a hateful hand drifting o’er the earth I made,
to capture those I prize, bringing spirits tainting blight.
Demons know I’m Satan’s foe; they must admit my might.

The Garden finds me sleepless, pondering my dreadful task.
I know this is my mission, and suffering won’t last.
Suspended grace, I'm lifted up – this my cross to bear;
the fate of sinful man will fall upon me there.

If you cut me, I now bleed, o wretched Adam’s seed.
I know no other means in the universe to free
the foulest of offenders who scorn our lavish love.
As the only Path, I take this boiling cup of blood.

Striking me with wood I formed, piercing flesh with nails, whips,
this crude creature meant for boundless bliss and fellowship,
tortures and torments me, flogging his Holy Maker.
I sculpted you in love; you spit on your Creator.

Though I trained your heart to beat, you earned what I endure.
I feel compassion for your frame – this I can assure.
The sky was pitch, the curtain rent – death had won it seemed.
Soon, repenting, you’ll awaken from this wicked dream.
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You will be released; you’ll cross that river, peaceful, wide.
Fretful fears will be eclipsed – with God you will abide.
Your journey done, vict’ry won – in Zion, truly freed
And forever cherished by the Highest God who chose to bleed.

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Joy Nevin Axelson earned a B.A. and an M.A. in French. She also attended Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. She’s the translation coordinator for GlobalFingerprints, the Evangelical Free Church of America’s child sponsorship branch. Her translations of training materials are used at 14 international sites. She enjoys travelling with her husband and two older children.

Joy's other work on Foreshadow:
Sacred Gift (Poetry, January 2024)
Wilderness Theophany (Poetry, October 2024)