Before He Was Your Hero

Each year has traced another path upon his weathered face,

And silver gleams where chestnut hair once grew.

The worn out rocking chair has not forever been his place.

No, before he was your hero, he was you.

A young man full of life and dreams, the future still unclear,

With wars that promised to be won through blood and sweet and tears.

Mistakes were not his stranger.  Far too oft he went astray,

And his words now kind and patient have not always been that way.

Though his portrait might deceive you, it is certain this is true.

Yes, before he was your hero he was you.

Her touch is soft and gentle, though her hands are rough and dry.

She cultivates her home with love anew.

She works and prays and fellowships with Sovereign God on high.

But before she was your hero, she was you.

A girl who looked into a mirror and found no beauty there.

A girl who felt like giving up when life was less than fair.

She didn’t always hide the treasures of the Word within.

Her mouth, not always slow to speak.  She’d known her share of sin.

And though it seems unlikely that she could have “been there” too.

Still, before she was your hero, she was you.

Colored lights illuminate a rock star on the stage,

As fans push in to get a closer view.

An idol in his prime no matter race or weight or age,

but before he was your hero, he was you.

The boy afraid of talking to the pretty girl in class,

Because she might ignore him or embarrass him or laugh.

He didn’t have the perfect skin or even perfect pitch.

He drove a beater car and even landed in the ditch.

The clothes he wore weren’t always cool.  He did the things YOU do.

Cause before he was your hero, he was you.

Red roses were his favorite, so she laid them on his grave.

As she whispered, “It’s been tough, but we’ll get through.”

She works and she is mom and she is strong and she is brave,

But before she was your hero, she was you.

A woman who’d get bothered when his socks were on the floor,

Though she’d give all that she had to see them lying there once more.

She wasn’t always in the best of moods when he came home,

And sometimes she’d say, “Take the kids so I can be alone.”

She wasn’t picture perfect, and she needed his help too,

Cause before she was your hero, she was you.

A rugged cross stands on a hill.  A Saviour’s dying there.

His crimson blood, upon the ground like dew.

He sacrificed his everything.  His body broke and bare.

Yet before he was your hero, he was you.

A man of flesh and blood who had emotions, who felt pain,

And though He made the rainbow, He still touched the falling rain.

He sweat and he got dirty and He worked with his two hands.

He is fully God Almighty, even so, He’s fully man.

And He will take you home if you believe, because it’s true,

That before He was your hero He was you.

By: Angie Breault