My friends had watched me,  in all my strife.

A sorry cripple was I.  My bitter lot in life.

My friends defended,  so earnestly concerned.

Others told a troubled life like mine,  is always earned.

I deep down felt it could be true.  It was my fault.

So sad my feelings of failure,  I just could not halt.

My friends determined to help,  and see me right.

Take me to this famous healer,  to win the fight.

Through the roof lowered,  to help me in my plight.

Looking down hopefully,  a sorry pathetic sight.

I lay there, my weakness,  totally displayed.

Surrounded by success.  Me a failure, and afraid.

My inability to walk not really,  all my worry.

I deserve this, get me out of here,  Jesus I’m so sorry.

Then He said something,  I will never forget.

It made the watching experts,  totally upset.

It’s not your fault that,  you cannot walk.

Your faults do not count,  forget all that talk.

How good it felt,  not guilty was His verdict.

Although I knew I had been,  far from perfect.

Happy cripple now I was,  but then He said,

As if to prove a point,  get up pick up your bed!

Amazing how good it felt,  now no guilt in me.

Stand He said, legs healed,  for the cynics now to see.

I looked those expert detractors,   in the eye.

They just saw a problem.  Jesus gave a sigh.

How sad it was,   they would not celebrate.

Unconcerned for me,  just wanted a debate.

It was an offence.  Forgiveness God’s alone to name.

But forgiven, healed,  I would never be the same.

Freedom

by Asaw Miller