By His Stripes We Are Healed Poem by Mac Wilkey

I asked the Lord why my mother must suffer
Why not take her home? He surely must love her
She faithfully served Him. It seemed He could let her
Slip quietly off--that would be so much better

She's no longer able to shine like a beacon
Her strength is all gone. No more can she weaken
She's no longer here. Been destroyed by the cancer
Please tell me, dear Lord. All I want is an answer

He spoke pretty plain though His voice was a whisper
He showed me why pain was required when I kissed her
'You needed to know that with death all must suffer
'Like my Son on the cross, it must be with your mother

A verse came to mind. Its meaning revealed now
For Peter explained, 'By His stripes we are healed.' Wow
He didn't just die, but rejected, forsaken
The wounds caused Him pain for each breath that was taken

We'd like to avoid such visions of anguish
We cherish His love, but his pain somehow banish
We may even sing of the cross and the garden
But not what He went through to merit our pardon

We picture the crowd and the hill where He fed them
But white-wash our sins and the hill where they led Him
'Bout the tomb, does He think, 'I've done that and been there'
And forget how He felt. For three days He was in there

He taught me that death shouldn't be taken lightly
Though Heaven is waiting and shining so brightly
We must not forget when we think of His glory
The scars were produced by some scenes that were gory

The sentence of death was much more than 'Stop breathing'
For death is severe and a time of much grieving
So cherish the mansions He took time to build us
But don't look away from the stripes that have healed us