Seeing Is Believing

 

 

Seeing is believing

That’s what some dare to believe

But I am undecided at the moment

For one’s eyes can be deceived.

 

Take an optical illusion:

What one sees is not really so

And I don’t have to belabor that

For I know that you know.

 

The lighting can be tricky

In the night as well as the day

And optical illusions will fool you

Regardless of what you say.

 

 

Some people advanced in age

See things that are not there

And they will point out the location

But you still cannot see where.

 

Sometimes before the court

A witness is absolutely sure

Until under severe cross examination

He is not sure any more.

 

I saw it with my two eyes

The lighting was clear and good

But regarding identifying the person

I am not so sure that I could.

 

Sometimes we choose to doubt

What we have actually seen

And if we work at it long enough

We may treat it as a dream.

 

Like an unpleasant experience

That we desperately want to forget,

Of such we may become oblivious

After a successful memory reset.

 

There were many in Jesus’ day

Who witnessed his many miracles

Yet refused to believe what they saw;

He was not one of their people.

 

Therefore, seeing is believing,

Does not hold for every case

Since there are those who refuse to believe

For fear of being out of place.

 

Stewart Russell © January 13, 2021

 

Saturday Was for Real

 

 

If Friday was the nightmare

Then Saturday was for real,

No need to pinch themselves any more

Saturday was for real.

 

Friday morning, he was around

Saturday morning, he was not,

There was absolutely no doubt then

That despair would be their lot.

 

Crucified and buried!

Their champion was gone

And of all the miracles he had done,

This was not to be one.

 

That’s the way they saw it

And their seeing was believing,

He came, he saw, but did not conquer

Given all that they were seeing.

 

Friday may have been the nightmare

But Saturday they were wide awake,

And the fact that there was no Jesus

Had them in a horrible state.

 

 

They had doubted what he said

About his decease and return to life,

None of that had made any sense

Since all they faced was strife.

 

Friday Jesus hung from a cross,

On Saturday, he lay in a tomb,

Death had delivered its mortal blow

And that was the symbol of doom.

 

An awfully horrid Friday

Followed by Saturday’s confirmation,

Jesus is stone dead in a tomb

Leaving them in desperation!

 

Saturday was for real!

A Sabbath of colossal proportions,

A memorial never to be forgotten

With perhaps misplaced devotion.

 

 

It was good while it had lasted

But Saturday confirmed the end,

He made himself out to be the Messiah

But alas, he was only a friend.

 

Stewart Russell © April 16, 2022