Crowned King of Love

What kind of crown is this?

Bejewelled with thorns and sharpened with sorrow

Twisted and jagged, like us.

This is a strange coronation

When the throne is a criminal’s cross.

Instead of acclaim - a gambling game of dice for ragged clothes

No fine robes, no trumpet voluntary

Crowds jeering and sneering,

And a lacerated man

Whose body takes the pain of the world.

What kind of king is this?

Whose glory lays all glory down

For love of you and me

He looked defeated, his kingdom lost

And yet, the greatest battle is won

Because he chose this way –

“Your will, not mine be done”

What kind of love is this?

This is love – not that we loved God but that God has loved us first

And gave his Son to die for our sins

So that we could live with him.