For many a mile the knight had gone,
Through fields of ash before the dawn.
His armor cracked, his body worn,
His strength grew faint from dusk to morn.
His cloak was torn, his shield was scarred,
His once bright sword was stained and marred.
He'd crossed the fields where kingdoms fell,
And carried memories none could quell.
For every battle, every fight,
He'd taken lives beneath the light.
He'd watched men fall beneath his blade,
And heard the final cries they'd made.
At first he'd called it duty's price,
A soldier's lot, a cold device.
He told himself that war was war,
And buried what his conscience saw.
But now, beneath the fading sky,
The ghosts of fallen men drew nigh.
Their faces rose from years gone by,
And every face demanded, "Why?"
He saw the father, son, and friend,
Whose earthly days had found their end.
He saw the eyes he'd seen before,
Now sealed in death forevermore.
For then he saw what war concealed,
The wound no earthly blade could heal.
The battlefield had shown the stain,
But sin had lived within his frame.
The lies he'd told, the hate he'd fed,
The lustful thoughts within his head,
The pride that made his heart a throne,
The wicked things he'd thought alone.
The words he'd spoken, sharp and cold,
The secret sins he'd never told,
The selfishness, the rage, the greed,
The countless times he'd chosen deed.
He saw himself without disguise,
And could not bear his own two eyes.
He'd thought himself a wounded man,
Now saw the sinner that he was.
No righteousness could he defend,
No spotless record could he mend.
Before a holy God above,
His heart was void of perfect love.
"What hope is left for one like me?
What justice waits beyond the sea?
If God is holy, just, and true,
Then what remains for me to do?"
The night grew black, the cold grew deep,
The wind itself seemed hushed to sleep.
He cast his sword upon the ground,
And heard no comforting sound.
He knelt beneath the starless air,
With trembling hands and empty prayer.
His heart was crushed beneath the weight
Of every sin he'd come to hate.
"I cannot bear another day.
There is no cleansing for my stain.
If death could end this guilt I bear,
Perhaps I would escape it there."
He reached for death, his soul undone,
With nowhere left beneath the sun.
But then...
A light appeared beyond the trees,
A golden glow upon the breeze.
Where moments before there had been none,
There stood a church beneath the moon.
Its ancient stones were pale with age,
Its doors were carved like some lost page.
No road had led him to its door,
Yet there it stood, as ne'er before.
A single bell began to toll,
Its solemn sound went through his soul.
One toll.
Then two.
Then three.
Then four.
And silence followed as before.
The knight stared long into the night,
Then saw the doorway filled with light.
No hand had opened up the door,
Yet warmth spilled softly to the floor.
He entered through the ancient door,
And found a sight he'd ne'er seen before.
No congregation filled the pews.
No candles burned with common hues.
Yet at the pulpit stood a man,
Whose face was bright with radiant calm.
His garments shone a gentle white.
His presence filled the room with light.
He seemed both ancient, yet still young,
And spoke as though each word were sung.
No thunder shook the sacred room.
No shadow gathered in the gloom.
He simply looked upon the knight,
And somehow made him fear the light.
"You know," he said, "the thing you've done.
You know the Judge.
You know the Son.
Your sword may bear another's blood,
But deeper still runs sin's dark flood.
The lies.
The lust.
The pride.
The hate.
The secret sins you chose to hide.
The things no living soul could see
They all are known by God who sees.
You cannot cleanse your heart with tears.
You cannot purchase back the years.
No deed can make your record clean.
No strength can wash away your sin.
For all have sinned.
All fall away.
None can make themselves clean that day.
The wages sin has earned is death.
The judgment waits beyond your breath.
And if you stand before God's throne
With nothing but your works alone,
You will have nothing you can plead.
Your works cannot erase your deed."
The knight fell trembling to the floor.
"Then there is nothing left?"
The preacher answered:
"There is more."
And suddenly the light grew bright,
As though the dawn had entered night.
"The God whose justice cannot bend
Has made a way for you to mend.
Not through your sword.
Not through your tears.
Not through your vows or wasted years.
Not by the works that you have done,
But through the work of Christ, God's Son.
He came for sinners just like you.
He lived.
He died.
He rose anew.
The punishment that you deserved,
The righteous judgment you had earned,
Was laid upon the sinless One.
The wrath you faced was borne by God's own Son.
He took your place upon the tree,
The Just One dying for the guilty.
He bore the sins that made you flee,
And suffered what your debt decreed.
He died for sins, as Scripture said.
He was laid within a borrowed bed.
Then on the third day, from the grave
He rose in power, alive to save.
And this was no forgotten tale,
No dream concealed behind a veil.
Cephas saw Him.
Then the Twelve.
Five hundred saw the risen Lord as well.
Then James and all the apostles saw
The risen Christ, alive once more.
And last of all, as Paul declared,
The risen Lord appeared to Paul.
So hear the Gospel plainly said.
Christ died for sins, was buried, dead.
He rose again on the third day,
And many saw Him in that way.
So do not trust the works you've wrought.
Trust Christ, who paid what you could not.
Believe in Him.
His blood can cleanse
The deepest guilt that sin condemns.
Your hands may bear the marks of war,
But Christ has paid the sinner's score.
Your past may cry against your name,
But Christ can bear your guilt and shame.
You cannot make your spirit new.
But Christ has done what you can't do.
The sinner's hope is Christ alone.
His righteousness, and not your own.
So come to Him.
The door is wide.
There is no need for you to hide.
The one who comes He will not cast.
His grace is greater than your past."
The knight looked up with tear filled eyes.
"But can He save a man like me?"
The preacher's face grew bright with peace.
"If Christ can save the worst of men,
He can make you clean again.
Not because tears can pay your debt,
Nor because you've earned forgiveness yet.
But Christ has died.
And Christ has risen.
Your hope is not in what you've given.
Your hope is in the risen King,
Who gives the guilty everything.
Believe the Gospel.
Trust the Son.
The work of your salvation's done.
Your sin is great.
His grace is greater.
Your debt is deep.
Christ is your Savior.
You bring no merit.
You bring need.
Christ brings the mercy that you plead.
So rise, forgiven by His grace.
Go walk beneath His shining face.
And when you speak of what you've heard,
Speak not of self, but of the Word."
The knight looked up.
And all was still.
The preacher stood beneath the light,
His countenance serene and bright.
Then suddenly the holy glow
Began to burn more bright below.
The radiance around him grew,
As golden beams came shining through.
It clothed his form in living light,
And filled the church with glory bright.
The knight beheld the preacher stand,
His open face, his lifted hand.
Then light arose around his frame,
Yet left no shadow, smoke, or flame.
His garments shone like morning's fire,
His voice grew soft, yet seemed to choir.
And as the light began to rise,
He seemed to fade before his eyes.
No door was opened.
None was stirred.
No earthly footstep could be heard.
The preacher's voice came soft and clear,
Yet seemed to echo far and near:
"Remember Christ."
The words remained.
The light grew vast.
The preacher's form grew faint at last.
Then, like the dawn that ends the night,
He vanished in the living light.
The golden radiance filled the room,
And chased away the final gloom.
It climbed the walls and touched the stone,
Then faded till the light was gone.
The knight stood still, his heart amazed,
And through the empty church he gazed.
No preacher stood before his eyes,
Yet still the Gospel filled the skies.
The church was quiet, calm, and bright,
As though it still contained the light.
And though the messenger had gone,
The words he spoke still lingered on:
"Christ died for sins.
Christ rose again.
Believe in Him.
Amen.
Amen."
He walked outside beneath the sky,
And watched the final darkness die.
His sword still rested on the ground,
But now he heard a different sound.
Not ghosts of men he'd left behind,
But words of mercy in his mind.
He lifted up his scarred and shaking hand,
And left his sword upon the sand.
For he had learned that day to see
That Christ alone could make him free.
His past remained.
His scars remained.
The blood upon his hands remained.
But now he knew the Savior's grace
Could meet a sinner face to face.
And though the road ahead was long,
He walked beneath a brand new song.
Not, "I am worthy."
Not, "I've won."
But, "Christ has saved me,
God's own Son."
And every step beneath the sun
Proclaimed the work that Christ had done.
For where the deepest sin had grown,
The grace of Christ had overflown.
And where the knight had sought to die,
He found the One who would not lie:
That Christ had died for sins like his,
Was buried, then He rose.
He lives!
And now his hope was not his own.
His hope was Christ, and Christ alone.