POEM; Denominational Deconstructionism

The end is near

God is angry
about permissiveness
about abandoned traditions
about relativism most of all.

Meanwhile
there are bats in our belfry
and snakes in our basement
disregarded Tupperware in the kitchen
that the Ladies' Aid would like to have claimed
or they will put it on the auction block next Summer
Should we contract ahead for fuel oil now
for next winter?


Somewhere between esoteric eschatology
and banal minutia

I sit

brooding

with Tillich and Kierkegaard,
Barth and Dostoevsky
squirming
and stewing
in Purgatory.

No matter how many indulgences
Tetzel would sell
he'd never get me out of this Earthly Hell.

Its not other people, as said Kant
but out of this church voters' meeting
that I want!

Motion to adjourn

to the tavern
with professors Luther and Melanchthon
for a pint

Perhaps
Erasmus
will join us.

POEM: Why don't we listen?

Some read nothing but Daniel and Revelation
Some stick to Genesis, Exodus and maybe Matthew, Mark and Luke
There are those who hod onto the Pentateuch and Paul
Myself, I like anything by John
There are those who love the Psalms and Proverbs
Many stick with the prophets, major and minor
Some are convinced that all that matters are the morsels they're rationed
by pastors or televangelists or political ideologues
It's amazing how many mistake Ben Franklin and Bill Shakespeare for something from the good book.
I can't tell you how often I've heard people quoting the code of Hammurabi, convinced they were repeating Jesus', smugly pleased that He backed up their opinions.
I wouldn't be surprised if the same is sometimes true of Machiavelli or even Ayn Rand.
Many have never read any of it at all.
Many figure if they've heard Exodus 20 or Luke 2 once, they've heard it a million times
Many have never even heard that much, and how can they know the Author, if after all, faith comes from hearing?
Some say that if you've read John 3:16, you've heard it all
But how many have seen "John 3:16" a million times, but never actually read or heard John 3:16 at all?
May I humbly recommend reading the parts in red letters?
You might be surprised and impressed, hopefully inspired
or perhaps shocked and dismayed, maybe convicted or offended.
May I further recommend the only sermon we have recorded that Jesus preached?
If enough of us listened, it may change how we think of both Jesus and His Word,
not to mention how we think of our neighbor.
But don't take my word for it,
read it for yourself.

Happy Thanksgiving!

O give thanks unto the Lord of lords, for His mercy endureth for ever.
~Psalm 136:3

A poem attributed to Plymouth Colonial Governor William Bradford:

From my years young in days of youth,
God did make known to me his truth,
And call'd me from my native place
For to enjoy the means of grace.
In wilderness he did me guide,
And in strange lands for me provide.
In fears and wants, though weal and woe,
A pilgrim, past I to and fro:
Oft left of them whom I did trust;
How vain it is to rest on dust!
A man of sorrows I have been,
And many changes I have seen.
Wars, wants, peace, plenty, have I known;
And some advanc'd, others thrown down.
The humble poor, cheeful and glad;
Rich, discontent, sower and sad:
When fears and sorrows have been mixt,
Consolations came betwixt.
Faint not, poor soul, in God still trust,
Fear not the things thou suffer must;
For, whom he loves he doth castise,
And then all tears wipes from their eyes.
Farewell, dear children, whom I love,
Your better Father is above:
When I am gone, he can supply;
To him I leave you when I die.
Fear him in truth, walk in his ways,
And he will bless you all your days.
My days are spent, old age is come,
My strength it fails, my glass near run:
Now I will wait, when work is done,
Until my happy change shall come,
When from my labours I shall rest,
With Christ above for to be blest.

Incredible Poem

I wish I could take credit for writing this. I also wish I knew who did, but alas, it is just one of those anonymous email forwards (Pretty sure that the car sitting in the garage part at the end is a quote attributed to Garrison Keillor. Who knows, maybe he wrote this whole thing).

Whoever is responsible for it, it is one of the most convicting , humbling, perspective giving, and funny bits of gospel that I've ever read. I hope it makes you think, pause, consider your feelings and words, but most of all thank the Lord for His incredible love, grace, and mercy.

BEST POEM IN THE WORLD

I was shocked, confused, bewildered
As I entered Heaven's door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
Nor the lights or its decor.

But it was the folks in Heaven
Who made me sputter and gasp--
The thieves, the liars, the sinners,
The alcoholics and the trash.

There stood the kid from seventh grade
Who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
Who never said anything nice.

Herb, who I always thought
Was rotting away in hell,
Was sitting pretty on cloud nine,
Looking incredibly well.

I nudged Jesus, 'What's the deal?
I would love to hear Your take.
How'd all these sinners get up here?
God must've made a mistake.

'And why is everyone so quiet,
So somber - give me a clue.'
'Hush, child,' He said, 'they're all in shock.
No one thought they'd be seeing you.'

JUDGE NOT!! (Mat 7:1)

Remember...Just going to church doesn't make you a
Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car.

Every saint has a PAST...
Every sinner has a FUTURE!
Now it's your turn... Share this poem.