The Bride

Who doesn’t love weddings?


On September 16th 2011 my middle daughter, Caren, was married. What an awesome day it was. Words can't describe the joy that radiated from her countenance as she walked up the aisle in her bridal gown. It was enough to make a mother cry. Caren has endured more than her share of scars, yet she freely shares her testimony with those who desire to hear. It is one of tragedy and triumph; battles fought, wars won, casualties and victories...


So, it was that on her special day, she took a break in the war to celebrate, not the beginning of perfect bliss, but the foretaste of something yet to come. And I couldn't help but compare the glory of her wedding to the glory of another or the beauty of this bride to the splendor of the Bride to be.


As this New Year begins, I lift my glass to all the brides who are anticipating a new beginning as they join their hearts in matrimony; two becoming one. But especially, on this day, I honor His Bride.


Christ’s Beloved Church.


You… believer and intimate friend of God.


As you continue to prepare yourself for that great and glorious day, I proclaim this jubilant declaration over the year to come, "L'Chayyim... to Life!"
 


The Bride


Bodies dot the landscape
Like mounds of broken clay
Plumes of smoke rise gracefully
Masking death's decay
 
Soldiers weak and weary
Search for shelter from the fight
But the woman rises slowly
And surveys the ravaged sight
 
Her gaze is racked with pain
Though hesitantly she stands
Her garments torn and bloodied
Are stained by wars demands
 
Parched lips part in a whisper 
A silent, desperate cry
As she looks to the horizon
For the Son is in her eyes
 
Faltering, stumbling, climbing
She winds her way among the dead
Her footprints bathed in tears
She is strengthened with each tread
 
Advancing, pressing forward
Nothing slows her steady stride
Her wedding day is dawning
For the Son is in her eyes
 
Nothing turns her attention
Not the failures of the past
Not the scent of other lovers
Or death's impending blast
 
Face fixed on her Beloved
She moves boldly to His side
Held captive by His beauty
For the Son is in her eyes


There they stand in perfect union
Father, Spirit, Son and Bride
As her blemished gown transforms
Into purest, snowy white


And all of time and space explode
“To Life!” as they arise
To celebrate this glorious dawn
For the Son is in her eyes