Friday
by Calvin Miller
This week, as we approach Resurrection Sunday, I am sharing writings related to the cross…
On with Friday’s grisly business!
Let the broad arm raise the sledge!
Let the hammer ring our upon the nails.
I must not flinch with the crimson flows -
He’s only a carpenter - a craftsman who claimed too much.
“I need a black nail, soldier.”
Give me your hand, carpenter. What a strange man you are!
You stretch forth your hand too eagerly - to willingly, as though I was
going to shake it, not nail it to a tree.
Steady, man. The first stroke of the hammer is easiest for me and hardest
for you.
For me the first blow meets only the resistance of soft flesh.
The hardwood beneath drives much slower.
For you the first blow is the worse.
It brings the ripping pain and the bright gore.
The wood beneath you wrist does not feel and bleed as you do.