A Heathen's Confession

They pick and poke. They examine and provoke

Spoke only the word of God

But that look and that nod, makes me feel you think I’m odd

I’m useless because Jesus sees me in pieces once a year at church

But the contents of my heart you fail to search.

Instead they lurk in the section of perfection from God’s sinful children.

That is the burden that scares me from the Christian that scrutinizes

Unpacks, extracts my outside and criticizes

Declares I am not a faithful because I do not come packaged in the moulded sizes

Of long sleeved, below the knee, tight bun

Blemish free, (COMMIT VERSE THREE TO MEMORY)

Stand up please and share your deliverance

Your devotion and the Almighty’s sustenance

But all of it is a mirage. Church quenches

Your thirst but leaves you ravenous for a truthful hymn

The Word. Spoken in tongues by the Holy Ghost

So that when we toast water to wine, we realise that miracles exist in our lives

Understanding that pride kills love and time.

Pride strives to hurt. But this is a heathen’s confession

I’ve got a blessing. Undressing the metaphors of the bible

A tidal wave of love overflows.

That personal connection between God and I grows.

A heathen’s reality of a flawed perception

Perhaps I came in late, failed to donate

Negated my tithe, because I failed to relate

Praising beings as self works, worth in gold

More than Jacob sold, we believe in their church

We lost the worth and work of our Lord and savior

Instead we savour in the glamour of Sunday Splendour

We end up believing and cleaving in the bosom of mortals.

In the place of seeking guiding light and spiritual portals

We drown in the substance of yourselves and delve deeper into vanity

We lose our spiritual being and lose our faiths sanity

Fellowship! But remember it is between the relation of you and I

Look around you, flesh and blood. I will remain, but they will die

So understand that the failure of prayer is not punishable by damnation (SALVATION)

Because our informal conversations mean much more than the shows (PERFORMANCES) you fashion

More than the theatrics, the pompous antics

“Be still” “I will be your peace” “look upon thee”

What you desire shall be set free

He spoke to me, quietly in my room we work on our connection

But still they do not understand, that they are equals to this heathen’s confession