How could He live through all the pain?
How could He suffer and still stay sane?
In spite of the lash’s cruel embrace,
Unmingled focus upon His face.
Like raining sulfur on His back
The Cat of Nine it did attack.
It hit and ripped and hurt and tore.
But Jesus lived…for there was more.
How could He die as sinners do?
A wooden cross, a nail or two.
He hung and bled in utter pain,
As crowds they mocked His holy Name.
On one side a man who now believes.
On the other a man in anger seethes.
He will not trust a bleeding King
Eternal life for him to bring.
How could our God be crucified?
How could the Creator of life now die?
How could the indestructible break?
How could the Father His Son forsake?
How could His back be turned on Him?
How could Christ suffer for my sin?
How could this death bring victory?
How could it save both you and me?
“Eloi! Eloi!” Jesus cried.
“It is finished!” then He died.
The veil was torn. The victory won.
We were spared. He was done.
In our stead He took our pain.
The sting of hell on him did rain.
He bore the sins and all the shame
Of all who call upon His Name.
How could this Jesus be in the grave?
His body buried in a cave.
The cloth and darkness wrap Him tight.
He breathes no air. He sees no light.
He’s dead, a corpse, all His friends grieve.
His earlier message still not received,
The news that He would rise again,
And live anew and conquer sin.
How could it be Him just standing there?
They hear him say “Now do not fear.”
He ate some fish. I’m sure He smiled.
He arose. He left, to reconcile.
What once was lost had now been found.
The angels cheered. The demons frowned.
For God’s own Son claimed victory.
He died, He rose for you and me.
How can it be?
How could it be?
That He loves you?
That He loves me?