"Sunday Comes, and So Shall You: A Journey Through Pain to Grace"

 

"By His Wounds, We Rise"

The weight was heavy, the fall was long,
A past that echoed where hope felt gone.
Yet on this day, this sacred hour,
Redemption bloomed in mercy's power.

On Friday, the cross bore shame and sin,
The darkest battle was fought deep within.
But in His pain, in love poured wide,
He carried burdens—we need not hide.

For recovery is a road unpaved,
Marked by wounds but never enslaved.
A path of healing, slow yet true,
Where mercy whispers, "I still choose you."

The scars remain, but grace sustains,
The nails, the thorns—the love remains.
What broke us once will not define.
By His wounds, we rise in time.

So stand, dear soul, though weak, though worn,
The veil was torn, new life reborn.
This road is hard, but you are free,
For Sunday comes, and so shall He.

"The Cross, The Healing, The Hope"

She carried the weight, the wounds, the fall,
A heart too broken to stand at all.
Yet beneath the sky of darkest night,
A Savior bore her pain in light.

On that Friday, nails sank deep,
Blood poured out, yet love would keep.
His hands stretched wide, His voice still spoke,
"It is finished."—chains were broken.

Recovery is a long journey,
A quiet fight, a whispered song.
Yet grace is stronger, love remains,
Healing flows through mercy's veins.

The cross declares, "Not defined by past,
Not bound by scars—freedom lasts."
For what was lost, He restores anew,
Sunday comes, and so shall you.