It is Finished

The cry echoes from the cross down through the ages,

‘It is finished.’

It is a compelling cry for

it is a genuine cry.

‘It is finished.’

Dealt with.



‘It is finished.’

Is that really possible?

I know there’s a lot in my life still unsettled.

I can’t say things are dealt with.

‘It is finished.’

But you, who know the end from the beginning, can say it.

Because you dealt with them.

And more.

‘It is finished.’

Oh, completing Father,

help me catch hold of that echo.

Its love,

its genuineness,

and, in doing so, realise that

victory is possible.

I can let go.

‘It is finished.’

The strength of every echo is

its source.

Reminding me of possibilities.

Of strength.

In you.

‘It is finished.’

Help me to listen to your echo.

All it means,

all it stands for.

Enable me to let it resound into my life and days.

May I never let your echo fade.

‘It is finished.’


Father God

Why won’t [the kite] fly?

I know it’s because I hold on.

I can’t let go.

Or won’t.

Or both.

Help me trust.

To release things to you.

And believe that they are gone.


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