Passion Poetry

by Rev. Desiree Bergauer-Dippenaar


1. May 2021In DevotionalBy Scotty Williams10 Minutes

During this year’s Good Friday service we read the Passion poems from the Rev. Desiree Bergauer-Dippenaar. In these beautiful writings she hows the suffering and death of Christ through the eyes of the women who witnessed it.


PRECIOUS PEARL

Woman Who Anointed Jesus ׀ Mark 14:3-9 

 

Many things are precious to me,
treasures collected over the years,
fulfillment of wishes, me heart’s desire –
I love them,
would not let them go.

 

But You, O Lord, are so much more –
I see it day by day:
Your love to me is worth so much
that I could never repay

 

So what can I do?
You’ve covered me with blessings so abundantly,
undeserved.
The most precious pearl.
So I let it go and give all up
to have only You for You are enough.
I pour out on You all that I have,
this precious oil
my sign of love.


DENIAL

The Servant Girl ׀ Mark 14:66-72 

“You there. You also were with Jesus of Nazareth.”

Please tell me you were. Ive heard so much.

I’d like to know so much. You were there – you saw it all

Blind who could see, lame who could walk –

Is it all true? Tell me I am right,

And that you are one of His – There’s so much I’d like to know.

 

Why do you deny it? Was I wrong? Didn’t I see you,

Singing with them all, waving palms to prepare His way?

“This man – I’m certain – he’s one of them”

 

Why do you deny it so vehemently?

I only want to hear what you have seen;

I only want to know whether the stories are true,

Whether He deserves to die, and what you think of all this.

Why run away when all of us know:

“Certainly you’re one of them; for you’re a Galilean.”

 

As you deny Him you deny me

The chance to find the answers I seek.

Why are you afraid, why do you lie

When all I want is to hear the truth?


I WILL NOT BE SILENT

Pilate’s Wife ׀ Matthew 27:15-30 

 

I could not say that wrong is right,

Do injustice to have my way.

Close my eyes and close my ears

To truth and justice.

 

I could join in the injustice, just because all others do it,

Shout along with all the crowd: CRUCIFY HIM.

 

I could stand there doing nothing

In the face of open wrong,

Wash my hands in innocence,

Refuse responsibility.

 

What can I do? I’m powerless.

The powerful do nothing, or ill.

What can I do? I am only a woman.

What can I do?

 

I can speak up for what is right,

Stand up for justice, for this righteous man.

I will speak, though it be pointless.

Silent is what I will not be.


CALVARY

Mary mother of James and Joses ׀ Mark 15:21-41 

 

 

“Come down off the cross! Save yourself!”

I hear them jerring from afar,

As I watch from a distance in agony

How You suffer, forsaken by all.

 

They taunt and they jeer,

They gamble for Your clothes;

No one shows pity, no compassion anywhere.

Nails have pierced Your hands, Your feet,

And blood runs down Your thorn-crowned brow.

 

If I could but cling to that cruel cross,

And kiss those blood-stained feet,

And show You someone loves You still –

Why am I too afraid?

 

Come down off the cross – save Yourself!

Why don’t You? I know that You can.

Why do You let them do this to You?

Why do You suffer, forsaken by all?

 

So many hopes, so many dreams –

What of them now?

Weren’t You the Messiah? Weren’t You the King?

Now You are helpless, crying in pain,

Broken, thirsty, dying.

What becomes of us when You are gone?

 

“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

Jesus, Jesus, why are You forsaking us?

Why now, when everything was just beginning?

Why do You let them do this to You?

Why do You suffer, forsaken by all?

 

Come down off the cross – save us

Because without You what can we do?

 

A final cry – You die and all is lost

The sky is dark,

The ground is shaking –

This is the end of the world.

 

Or am I wrong and this is the beginning,

And this is where life and salvation spring?

Did You not promise that death would not win?

Can I hope,

Can I believe that this is the start of something new,

 

That if I cling to that cruel cross and quietly believe,

You show me that You loved the world so much

You would not save Yourself, but died saving me?


AT THE CROSS

 

 

I see the cross on which You died

I stand and wonder at the sight.

What sorrow and what pain is here –

But oh, what grace and comfort too!

I stand in awe and rev’rent fear,

I stand in awe and worship You.

 

I see Your feet, those beautiful feet

That preached Good News, brought tidings of peace,

Those feet that left the Throne above, now nailed to the wood,

All for me, and I thank You, Lord Jesus,

For Your piercèd feet.

 

I see Your knees, those humble knees

That knelt on the ground like a slave, washing feet

Those knees that prayed in Gethsemene,

Now bruised and bloody, all for me

And I thank You, Lord Jesus, for Your blood-stained knees.

 

I see Your side, that loving side

To which You hugged children and drew the outcast,

That side to which You call the world,

Now pouring water, blood, and love, all for me.

And I thank You, Lord Jesus, for Your bleeding side.

 

I see Your hands, those gentle hands

With which You blessed and healed the sick,

Those hands that touched lepers,

Now stretched out and pierced, all for me.

And I thank You, Lord Jesus, for Your outstretched hands.

 

I see Your head, O sacred head now wounded

With grief and shame weighed down.

That loving brow now crowned with thorns, bent in death,

All for me.

And I thank You, Lord Jesus, for Your thorn-crowned head.

 

I see the cross on which You died

I stand and wonder at the sight.

What sorrow and what pain is here –

But oh, what grace and comfort too!

I stand in awe and rev’rent fear,

And give my life as thanks to You.


FINISHED

Joanna wife of Chusa ׀ Luke 23:50-24:10 

 

 

It is finished – over

Our hopes as broken as Your body.

There’s nothing You can give me now.

Your healing hands are pierced and torn,

Your loving heart – cold.

 

There’s nothing You can give me now,

No benefit in staying here –

But here I am by Your side not taking anymore,

But giving a last gift to You.

 

It is finished – over

Or complete?

We wrap You in linen – one last look at Your face.

We roll the stone before Your grave –

Finished?

 

The seed has fallen into the ground.

Will it awake to bring forth fruit?

Lord, it is finished –

Or has it just begun?


*Image – Maria Sculpture Wall Malta Holyby photosforyou “”(this image comes from Pixabay and are free for commercial use; no attribution required.)