(by Daniel R. Jones)
Bet it was bliss being Jesus,
before the crucifixion, I mean.
Before Judas’ kiss and the crown of thorns
and the floggings and whatnot.
Before the Romans rolled bones for his clothes.
Bet it was bliss being Jesus,
rustling through the Torah,
strolling the streets of Nazareth
with that look on His face:
just knowing He was God.
Bet it was bliss being Jesus,
knowing he was God’s own
self-insert in the story He’s weaving.
Not a Mary-Sue, exactly, I
don’t want to stretch the analogy too far.
But I’ll bet it was bliss being Jesus
before He’d told anybody;
say, at 10-years-old,
just watching and waiting to tell His classmates,
giddy to see the look on their faces.
Before all the terms and conditions
of the Kingdom of God.
“A hard teaching,” they called it.
Therein lies the rub.
But before all that,
I bet it was bliss being Jesus.
Bez&Co 