The Man Who Went To Church

28 Jan

Some friends and I were talking recently about the documented disappearance of people from the pews of so many churches.  Maybe the following represents a reason for some segment of that exodus.

I went to church the other day,
I haven’t been in years,
and what I saw
and what I heard
proclaimed in ancient song and word
reduced my heart to tears.

A man stood up to sermonize,
his words had quite a sting.
He said all people everywhere
were rotten to the core
and then proclaimed that all of us
deserved the Devil’s door!

We sang old songs from 1910,
all made it very clear
that I’m a worm,
my fate is sealed,
my long-term future’s now confirmed.
No joy in what’s revealed.

I never knew how bad I was
until I went to church.
I thought my life was pretty good;
I helped the down and out,
made generous gifts to those in need;
my actions were devout.

But now I know I’m bound for hell,
one-way ticket waiting.
Departure day is marked in red,
my destination’s dead ahead
because, in truth, I don’t adhere
to dogmas that they hold so dear.
The danger I’m creating!

So now I guess my days are done
within those sacred walls.
I went to hear some hopeful news,
but now I find that I must choose
to sacrifice my common sense,
agree to all that they dispense,
a price I cannot pay.

Someday perhaps I’ll try again.
I don’t know where.  I can’t say when.
But surely there is hope somewhere,
a welcome hand, a place to share
the ups and downs of daily life,
a place in which my pain and strife
can finally be released.

It won’t be in the church, I guess;
there’s nothing there to feed my quest.
I’ll wander off, just like the rest,
and find my hope
elsewhere.

 

One Response to “The Man Who Went To Church”

  1. Judy Boroto January 28, 2018 at 9:10 pm #

    Makes you want to tell everyone about St. Mark’s! I certainly have heard of these other kinds of churches, however.

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