Church? Poem - Cornerstone Church Kingston
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Church? Poem

April 27, 2020

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What is it all about then, this thing that they call “church”?
A crutch for needy losers, when life’s left them in the lurch?
A place that people turn to when they just can’t handle strife;
or so terrified of dying that they seek an afterlife?

People chasing “meaning”,
Or simple minded fools who, lacking decent education need some “god” to set them rules.
Lemming like they swarm towards a “hope”, albeit false;
So blind to scientific fact, their minds seemingly closed.

Images that come to mind of dusty half filled pews;
Insipid liturgy that from the mouths of priests is spewed.
Smells and bells and rituals,
candles flickering in rows.
Muttered prayers for them that’s dead
and those that’s yet to go.

Frightened masses desperate, for some kind of affirmation,
that one day they’ll have done enough to dodge Hell and damnation.
By keeping rules and doing good and pleasing “god” on high,
they just might snag a place with promised “daddy in the sky.”

Don’t get me wrong church has its place, at certain times of year.
Like midnight mass at Christmas with a message of good cheer.
Easter also at a pinch,
egg hunts and daffodils;
but don’t dwell on crucifixion!
Who wants talk of some bloke killed?

And church is good for other things
That mark the course of life
Baptisms, marriages and death
All must be done “just right”.
The irony seems lost on most, that vows made on those days, are
to a God they disregard, ignore and push away.

But may I put the record straight about this thing called “church”?
It is a crutch for losers when life’s left them in the lurch.
It’s definitely a place to turn when we can’t handle life;
and yes, the prospect of our death
has us crave an afterlife!

And yes we’re seeking meaning;
But let’s be honest… aren’t we all?
Whether simple, smart or average,
we all respond to certain calls.
In the quiet times when we’re all alone and doubts come creeping in
About the meaning of our lives, this world
Of everything.

Church is not a building
It’s not a place at all.
Not bricks and mortar, or stained glass that can be built, but also fall.
Church is made of people groups
From every tribe and tongue
Whose commonality is love for Jesus Christ,
God’s precious Son.

People knowing they are weak, soul sick, in need of aid;
Admitting thoughts of death can have them trembling… sore afraid.
Not seeking rules to guide their lives
Or tasks to make them “good”;
But forgiveness, peace, relationship
From the One who understood.

Church is a field hospital in the battle and the strife.
Where scarred and wounded soldiers can come and know a different life.
Where past wrongs are forgiven and the tired soul may rest.
Where one may die to sin and self
And rise renewed, refreshed.

God loved this broken world so much He sent His only Son
To save us from ourselves and from the judgement that will come.
God’s about restoring, our relationship with Him
And this could only be achieved when HE gave everything.

His precious Son died in our place and rose to give us life,
A new hope and a future turning darkness into light.
In trusting Him we’d be set free from all our doubts and fears;
And one day in the future, God will wipe away all tears.

See, church never was a building, it never was at all.
It’s always been the people who heard the gospel call.
If you think you’re good already then you never will come in
The gospel calls to ones that know that they are drenched in sin
They know that they are failures and unworthy of God’s love
And for people such as these, Jesus left His throne above.

Jesus loves His church so much
This ragtag band of sinners
That by His mercy and His grace we are made victors, battle winners!
Never in our own strength
But in His and His alone
Til the day our glorious Shepherd King calls His ransomed people home.

By Rose Marmion
Rose is married to Steve and they have 3 children. Rose helps in various ministries within the church and enjoys writing poetry, when she has the time!