Style comes to play when these edifices we seek to raise
Romanesque, Gothic, architectural sprawl and splendour resplendent
From foundations rise then, things we’ve dreamed and seen as befitting
Sitting on acres, thinking, holding things and frames
Marble and glass and a sea of colour-spawn accounts, from start to apocalypse
Our own stories should fit in here too, I think
So sounds choirs create as chant and psalmody verbalized resound, sonic perfection sung
Wrung from fronds like palms laid before our king
Many words said, many names proclaimed, one vision appealed to
I look to the vessels and see golden glitter, look to the pews and hear tired ‘phews’
Gracefully garmented choir tries to charm with sonorous rhythms
But a chasm is widened as they retreat to seats, to regular routine
Like the rest of us church folk, church bunch seeking charm, finding only sham
And more- shame
Lame, destroyed by fear of our own wrongs done, those deeds done that shut us down
We may cheerlead for our people’s fine voices, but who’s won the adulation?
God’s not fooled
So we’re trim and clean cut for Sunday’s same serenade
Nicely dressed up and reeved up for what talks and faces we’ll have and see
Business deals sealed and partners to seek out, a time to hang out
But is it love or self seeking service that drive these engagements, I ask
Are our meetings only taking forward traditions, social settings devoid of Christ’s full presence
Are our hymns and confessions heart felt or head read
Are we truly free, not hiding behind smiles and breeding death beneath
Are not our wells deeply poisoned, isn’t our salt stale, worn of taste?
What’s our worth, what has the world seen of us?
Where is the fear and offence in the eye of the sinner and the vile
Why is the world so at home with our profession, why are we so cozied up to its style?
Why is life mild and dull, where’s the daring stare of the saint, the defiance of our timeless army?
Decimated horde, ours, I think…
May God decimate that tendency!
Come now, beloved, let us desire His fire
Let the flame of love be real in us, let us be dried of starving moist
Let our hearts be earnest, be daring, be at unrest
Wrestle down dire cowardice, give Him every stained gown
Give up fighting truth, die to come alive, slay deathly slime, rot
Disperse the dark
And let our God, Lord of the light, make us His Church again.