babyI belong to a generation who is no longer  interested in commercial, social-club churches and ministry.  We want raw, we want real and we are not afraid to question our leadership.  Some of us have, and some are ready to.  This poem is meant to empower and equip my generation to not settle for casual, comfortable “church” going – but compel each other into deeper relationship and greater purpose for Kingdom living.


Aborted and Adopted

New life, transformed – and in such great community

Friendships and bible studies, even dabbling in ministry

Welcomed, ushered, into opportunities to serve

Overeager hugs and handshakes, experiencing nerves

Until being “real” as was constantly encouraged

Created uncomfortable, uneasy, scrimmage

“Unity! Peace! Let’s converse”, I protest

“I’m with great hope we can search the heart of this mess!”

Yet what was received, was no such rest,

Silence; cold shoulder; displays of detest

Business as usual, it would be seen

Could these Christ followers, really exude this type of mean?

While the heart beat still pumped, the abortion took place

To distance, to kill, and then save  face

With large, plastic smiles and doe-eyed gazes

Doors which once swung wide were now closed in faces

Swiftly slammed shut, locked with a key

Keeping the “enemy” out, they say

You see, the enemy was me

Here sits an orphan spirit, the abortion is complete

The attendees have all washed their hands, and are ready to feast

Mangled in the trash bin, the fetus hears them sing

As they go about their worship, in the presence of the King

“I’m still here!” I scream, “Over here, down below!

It’s cold and lonely here, and surely not time to go!”

The large plastic smile and doe-eyed glaze,

Appeared to twitch for a moment in a nervous haze

“Has anyone heard, or seen what was done?”

She quietly whispered to another one

“I don’t believe so; I think we are clear,”

They answered, confirming no one was near

A wipe of their brow and a sigh of relief

For they had killed the enemy

You see, the enemy was me

But wait! Purpose had been declared, a magnificent plan,

Spoken in confidence from the mouth of man

Falling to ruin, as humanity did not stand

Pulling out  promises, as healing waters emptied out

Leaving an empty vessel, prey for fear and doubt

The ugliness is gone; the stain cannot be seen

The evil has quietly been removed

And the evil was me

As tears pat down, upon the delicate hollow – the orphan surveyed

The damage, the loss and unbearable pain

Weary eyes catch a glimpse of a mark within this shell

A small, yet raised imprint that laid foundation of this well

“Property of the King”, it read, “chosen and called”

This being, this purpose, this soul, was recalled

Purchased in love, from the King himself

There was no one other, to compare with his wealth

Of riches, and strength, and power and grace

Of His words, of His love, he exposed to my face

As radiant drops started pouring within

Dry walls, wetting, spackling begins

To strengthen, to smooth, resisting pressure and weight

Living waters spill in – purging bitterness and hate

Residue of sin and leftover pain

Rinsed out, removed, and making way for his rain

Here sits an orphan spirit, whose abortion was complete

New life began, just in time for a feast

Raised up from the discard, placed by the hand of  fellow man

Redeemed, nourished, alive – strengthened to stand

Able to laugh, with a voice that hums to sing

While continuing this journey – in the presence of the King

An adoption recalled, my name, my right

Full access of joy and fullness of life

My inheritance of faith, fitted as a shield

To guard against deception – of which the enemy will weild

Then a flash of hope, something very much real

A portrait of an enemy, whose mission is to steal

Family’s and friendships; promise and truth

Dividing a community, from wisdom and youth

The Kings voice whispers, “Yes, the enemy is real

And it is not one of us, though you may feel

His presence will remain, but his tactics must be fought

Don’t you remember, all you were taught?

Put on my armor, each day, anew

Be protected and discerning – guarding and shrewd

It’s my voice you follow,  living water you need

To stay full and peaceful, walking in good deed

For strength and for power, for breathe and for life

Practice hearing my voice, you will know it is right”

With purpose restored, a magnificent plan remained

Spoken in confidence and flowing through my veins

For no man can dismiss that which the King proclaims

A purpose, a plan, a space, for every man

Be mindful of those whose jewelry and clothes

Proclaim all the symbols and verses they know

Shouting allegiance to the King, and his throne

For even the smiles and the doe-eyed gazes

May still remain broken, mistaking the enemy for faces

Be vigilant, be wise, it’s our gift for this journey

Meant for safety, steps sure and sturdy

“You are not a misfit, if you hear you don’t belong

That you are a lone ranger, trust Me, they are wrong

Just listen to me, you are stunning and smart

Important and valued, my finest work of art

You were crafted for greatness, my spirit concurs

You must remember this, when trials occur

People will  attempt to discard my treasure

What man ventures to ruin, I find great pleasure

Watching and helping you rise from the heap

The trash you were tossed in, however far or deep

My spirit will lift you and give you strong wings

Equipping to rise above, and see greater things

Ignore the shallow flattery, and seek out the truth

A glimpse of my glory will restore zeal of  youth

You may not be liked, even mocked and hated

But my spirit will sustain you, and for this, you were created

To live in such a way that my glory is known

It’s how you survive, and its not on your own

Alongside a King, a royal calling that is yours

Where your presence is unmistakable and cannot be ignored 

Sift through the voices, and the crowds of peoples

Shouting my name on their man-made steeples

Seek out the ones, who are moving below

Under the pulpits and platforms of show

This is my tribe, whose hearts are on fire

Moving and giving and loving, to no tire

Where no one is lower and no one is higher

Than each and every brother, each sister on fire

They walk alongside the young and the old

The poor and the wealthy, the hot and the cold

Look for my tribe, and test it and see

For at the heart of every action, in word or in deed

Is love, great and mighty – and in the center, is me.”

The test, I did see, was failed to a “t”

As the mangled up mess in the trash bin, was me

Thank you, father, for wings to fly outta here

For the strength to move on, not remaining there

Grieving a crime is healthy and good

Fighting for unity, every believer should

Allowing truth to arise and the heart revealed

Of every church body whose leaders have failed

To show Christ’s love to each one, the same

Regardless of prestige, of power or fame

“Rise up, young warriors, fearless and brave

Question your leaders who call on my name

For wisdom is humble, it welcomes a search

As should my leaders, watchmen of my church

Listen close to the response; is it philosophy, feelings or meaninglessness?

Is it my heart? Is it my nature, or just frivolousness?

Test it against my very word, you will never miss

And consider you are here, for such a time as this.”



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Communications major. Journalist. Willing: to have the tough conversations. Living out the belief that communication strengthens connection.

One thought on “Unintentional”

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