April 23, 2012

You stand your stolen pulpit

pontificate, yet uncertain

Your magician’s words

distracting from your lies

crutching misplaced faith

If you were to ask

“Was Jesus … ”

(insert your preferred

personal

cultural

worldly …

misdirection here)

“… ?”

I could not be certain

you would hear my answer

You neither know the God I adore

nor have you care enough

to permit Him speech

Despite how oft’ you ask the answer

(you seek but do not want; refused

the Answer to a need much greater)

you’ve already missed the point

The question is not what Jesus was

or wasn’t, but Who Jesus Is

that He lives

proves all He is (was and will be)

We stand on nothing less secure

or fall

A University chaplain asks: “Was Jesus Gay?”

Not knowing whether to be furious or to

laugh myself silly; I wrote this poem instead.

If you have to ask a question like this at all,

then you really have no clue Who Jesus Is.