Isaiah, I Believe Your Report
by Sheila Dougal
O God of Isaiah!
I believe your report!
You cut me from the Rock.
You planted in me the Word.
You made me your child because you became the Servant.
My transgressions pierced You.
My sins crushed You.
One of your smallest stones yet you laid me.
One of your least fruitful trees yet you planted me.
One minuscule cell of your body yet you formed me.
One of your most-lost sheep yet you sought me.
One of your shameful women yet you call me daughter.
One of your children far off yet you adopted me.
One of your sick from head to toe yet you healed me.
One of your proud and obstinate yet you humbled me.
One of your sold in chains of lust yet you redeemed me.
One of your blind yet you opened my eyes.
One of your deaf yet your voice you made me hear.
One of your dead yet you made me alive.
Your pierced feet are beautiful!
Your scarred hands bear my name!
See and be satisfied!
Your child believes!
Good news! Scandalous, glorious news!
No one has ever published so good a report!