Flurries of cold dance into wintery gray
And forecast
What the cross, erected in my back yard,
Will endure in the days and weeks ahead.

No matter.
Its lights continue to shine
And outline a call to reflect on the past
And prepare for the future.

For the work of the cross is a mystery.
It was completed—yet it is active
It was finished—but yet to be seen
Is its power to rally every soul to choice—

Life or death
Remit or retain
Humble or exalt
Believe or reject

Winters coldest fury has not weakened its stance.
Nor can it be engulfed in flames
For its purpose is rooted, more mighty than the cedar,
And its flame hotter than all hell has to offer.

See it flash its message?
Bread of Life
Covenant Cup
Fragrance of Eternity
Destroyer of the Grave!

Lifter of the dead
Conqueror of Hell
Skeleton key to heaven—one for you and one for me
To have and to hold or
To throw out as waste.

I can no longer sit here
I must move.
I must choose.

I must act on what I truly believe
And mark my address for eternity.

Today is the time

While the key is mine
To keep and to cherish
Or to discard and perish.