I 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.”
M