Where They Meet: A Poem

I sit in church on Sunday

hearing about this “God” above.

And I’ve read this book that tells me

that he’s good, and just, and… love?

 

But I look around our world,

and I see our cities’ streets.

And I’m wondering where this God

and this world of ours could meet…

 

I see Christians being slaughtered,

and murderers roaming free.

I hear souls crying out for God,

asking “where is he?”

 

I see honest people beg for work,

while all the corrupt prevail.

We worship sex and money,

but you say its Jesus we should hail?

 

I come home from work myself,

and complain about aching feet

when there are children on my block

wondering what they’re going to eat.

 

We live in a culture that’s full of lies.

It tells us that we’re nothing.

Because if we realized who we are,

we might actually change something.

 

We might realize we hold the cure,

for a world that is broke and it’s bleeding.

And instead of fighting a moral famine,

we’ve been absentmindedly retreating.

 

We cry, curse, and scream,

and we’ll shake our angry fists…

and yet I’m left to wonder now

if there’s not something that we’ve missed…

 

We accuse God of being silent…

 

 

of being distant…

 

 

and not caring… ?

 

 

But who’s the fallen here?

And who’s cross was it that he carried?

 

We are a nation of elitists,

of thugs, punks, and politicians;

but it is the weak who shame the strong,

according to first Corinthians.

 

And yeah, I’m tempted to despair

when I look around our nation,

when inspecting all of its fruit

I see it bears a sin contagion.

 

In wondering where it is,

this fallen world and God could meet…

I humbly realize that it should be us,

His hands and His feet.

 

 

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