I’ll be the one to grow old without pain, I’ll be the exception. Others have tried to gain before gain always to face rejection.
I’ll be the one to avoid creaky knees. Arthritis, bad back I’ll resist. Stay active, stay strong, get plenty of z’s, I’ll check every box on the list.
I’ll be the one with no lasting disease. Cholesterol, cancer—no way. I’ll beat back genetics with veggies and teas. Organic? I’m willing to pay.
I’ll be the one with an ever-sharp mind. I’ll slow down not even a bit. Confusion, dementia—I’ll leave them behind, I’ll read and converse to stay fit.
Headstrong, determined, and foolish I go, ignoring the reason One was made low.
He was the one who loved and obeyed each of his thirty-three years.
Willing to suffer, he saw his strength fade through anguish and blood-coated tears.
He was the one without sin of his own who bore a hellish, foul load.
His heavenly army stayed back near the throne as he stumbled up Calvary’s road.
He was the one who sought heaven’s joy instead of power or ease.
The works of the devil and flesh to destroy, the Father’s wrath to appease.
He is the one who’s readied a place helping me properly long for curse-free communion at last face to face adopted and loved in the throng.