There once was a brother I knew
who loved to sling mud and preach dung.
He thought of himself as wise and mature,
but he was actually quite arrogant and young.
He cast no image into mirrors he viewed,
so he climbed as high as he could
and relished the recognition and accolades he got
from the soapbox upon which he stood.
His ears were deaf to everything
that did not concur with his views,
so he continued to stray away from the Way,
as did those who sat in his pews.
His church was a box that imprisoned him
and all those who came there to pray
to a god that lived but in a book
rather than in hearts in jars of clay.
Potters but mold the vessels they make
whilst the clay is but pliable and wet.
The heart and mind are likewise so,
for they can’t be changed once set.
Rigid, he was, and hard was his heart
to all that compelled him to grow.
Walls he did build to protect himself
from things he did not want to know.
He locked himself (and all that was his)
behind the walls of his box
and convinced himself (and all that was his)
that they were safe behind closed doors and locks.
The world spun on and changed over time.
Evil encroached upon good.
Time stood still within his church,
for its warriors were mired in childhood.
They drew pretty pictures of Joseph and Mary -
learned to play nice and sing songs.
They quoted Bible verses and came to believe
that Jesus would come back to right wrongs.
So waited they did, within their church,
and nothing is what they did do,
for Christ is the Spirit of OUR Creator,
and His body IS but me and you.
The Spirit can will for eternity
and accomplish all manner of things,
for It has eternity to wait, you see,
for obedience to the King of kings.
But neither you nor I nor the world nor the church
nor her children who sing and recite
will ever witness God’s will come to pass
by raising hands and being nice and polite.
For we are but vapors that blow on the wind -
we’re but dew that forms at night.
Inevitably day will dawn again,
and we’ll be gone in the warmth and the light.
The sword of truth has double sharp edges.
Its cut is love - not hate,
AND the truth is: that it is NOT truth
that Jesus will come while we wait.
No more so… is that the case now
than when Jesus FIRST came to Earth,
for if He’d not died the WAY that He died,
obeying His Spirit - not birth -
Jesus would have been just like other men
and died a death without worth,
and the tragedy would be that WE would all be
mere and mortal flesh upon this earth.
We’d have no access to that which transforms
and allows us to rise above flesh -
to be God’s body within His creation
and make His will and ours mesh.
The world would spin on, evil would grow,
and Creation would CONTINUE away.
Humanity, on the other hand,
would simply blossom and then FADE away
without ever seeing or knowing or being
God’s will upon this earth,
for we’d have rejected His Spirit and body
in lieu of that of OUR birth.
We sit in our pews to hear the good news
about how Jesus will, one day, return.
That He will, but listen, my friends,
it is… WITHIN US! THAT we must learn.
Christ is the Spirit of all creation
and His Spirit IS here and is NOW.
It’s time for His warriors to don His armor
and headlong, into battle, plow
rather than waiting and singing
and quoting Bible verses from heart,
we, like Jesus when He climbed on the donkey,
should simply do our part.
Jesus did not hesitate.
Into battle, He rode, on a colt.
He was ONE with the Spirit…
and we lock church doors with a bolt.
February 19, 2020