I was just cleaning out some stuff and came across a poem I wrote years ago, probably around Easter. It’s titled “It was I.”

It was I who waved the palm branch and shouted
It was I who welcomed Him to town.
It was I who laughed and celebrated.
It was I who led Him around.

It was I who believed the rumors,
It was I who bought the lie.
It was I who joined the others,
It was I who wanted Him to die.

It was I who went to the garden,
It was I who arrested Him there.
It was I who bound and beat Him,
It was I who pulled out His hair.

It was I who wanted Barabbas freed.
It was I who condemned Him to die.
It was I who washed my hands in innocence.
It was I who screamed “Crucify!”

It was I who put the blindfold on Him,
It was I who shouted, “Prophecy!”
It was I who laughed at His agony.
It was I who spit in His eye.

It was I who kicked and whipped Him,
It was I who poured on the pain.
It was I who put the cross on His shoulders.
It was I who laughed at His shame.

It was I who laid Him out on the cross.
It was I who tied Him down.
It was I who hammered the spikes in His wrists.
It was I who gave Him the thorny crown.

It was I who hoisted the cross toward the sky.
It was I who heard His flesh rip.
It was I who smiled at a job well done.
It was I who gave Him the last whip.

It was I who pierced His raw and bleeding side.
It was I who watched the blood flow.
It was I who saw His head fall in death.
It was I who didn’t know

That it was I would put the King on the cross,
It was I who caused His death.
But it wasn’t the whip, the spear, or the cross
That took away Jesus’ last breath.

It was the sin in my heart that put Him there,
It was the things I’ve done that are wrong.
It was the love of the Father and the life of the Son,
It was the love for me that’s so strong.

So now I see it, now I understand
That His death wasn’t about the tree.
It’s about bringing the children back to the Father,
It’s all about God’s love for me.

It is I who now stands forgiven and whole,
It is I who walks with the Lord.
But it is He who won my battle over sin,
With a cross, not with a sword.

It is I who stands at the gaping mouth
Of the tomb that once held Him there.
And now it is I who will serve my Risen Lord
Until I meet Him in the air!

–Jerry Varner