grave with misfortune, surprise
blossoms in my soul.
When I gaze too long at the hard shell of the grave,
I despair without your physical presence, and
when I rubberneck the collision of God and man on the cross,
I am overwhelmed by the required suffering sin must pay.
But, when I fix my eyes upon the reality of resurrection,
your authority surges through my veins!
I testify, the cracked grave and crude cross are
the transforming chrysalis, where redemption butterflies emerge!