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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.
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