Corporate Repentance

May the Blood of Jesus wash us clean in our hearts
May the grace of God furnish us with contrite hearts
May the rebellious find what God has reserved for them,
but may the repentant find your Mercy oh Lord.

Who is righteous? Who is blameless?
Your Word, Oh Lord, is final.
We, your sheep, cry out for help.
Help us to do right, Help us to walk in your preference
Please keep us among your sacred nation.
We turn away from our greed, for our idolatry;
Please give us the courage to pull down the strongholds,
Using the weapons you have furnished us with
We shall be strong in the power of your might,
Give us life
We ask in the name of Jesus
God of all Flesh, you are our source and our judge
Our King and our Owner
Have mercy on us, and keep us close to you
We are the sheep of your fold, and we have strayed in our foolishness
Chasing pictures of valleys when you have always been trustworthy to us.
Please return us to your pasture
Cleanse us of the rebellious one and renew the right spirit within us

Where can we live without you
We do not want that
We are afraid of a morning without your voice – a dawn without your son
We plead the blood of Jesus on our land
Let the death of the disobedient Passover us.

And in every household, we will teach our children – to fear the Lord.
We tremble at your Word, and we cry Abba Abba, please do not turn away from us.
We submit to your moulding Sir.

We are clay, and which better Potter exists – than you, King of Kings?

Thank you for keeping your eye on us. For what is man, that you are mindful of him?
But you are a kind Father.
We abandon ourselves to your reprimand, for you discipline those you love.

Thank you Jesus
Thank you Lord.

I pray,
We pray,

In the mighty name of Jesus.

– Godzniel
(c) 2024

Broken ceramics

I have faint memories of my mother
I remember her as a cup
How she always found a way to hold it all together, just before she leaks
Trickles of water falling beside her straight slender figure, ceramic
Till the day daddy pushed her from the table and she broke
Pieces of her piercing little me, till one little pointy mummy tore through my left eye

Now I half see.
Deformed, they think I am
But with what hands would you erase memories’ scars?
With what hands would you race memories cars?
The speed limit of the past experiences dangling in your face before you even make the obvious decision
Those past experiences
Become the obvious decisions and so

I still cannot resist slender girl
Especially when they comment on my eyes
The one blue pupil that’s always learning new ways to shatter ceramic;
Hearts.
My past, present
How I with my fingers have rewritten daddy’s story on many lives.
If they never let go of their past
I’ll always be present, right on time
Before their next decision.

I wonder
If mummy would be proud that the vengeance I sought for her has made me Potter many more ceramics;
Broken
From tables, broken tablets, broken tables of laws
I have become ten plagues walking and everyone wants to chase from Egypt till they drown in a pool of their own tears tricking when they are full.
Maybe we give too much power to all the hurts that have Moses’ed their ways into our lives, dear lions forget about your pride and let his people go!

Finance peace,
UN-till the ridges you’ve prepared to plant hate
Until its roots can’t take in your heart any room.
So that any room you enter.
You’ll leave memories of water. Washing clean from dirt smeared hands, hearts, spirits, bodies, minds. Ceramics.
Set this on your heart
And set the captives free from Egypt.

God has called you, now lead, and let his people go.

UC Truth
©2021

Church Chairs

These wooden bars kiss more butts on Sundays
According comfort while they stay lay
They hold not a few, void of potter’s clay
Deciding the direction of heads, lined up like plays

Oh! This old rooky object
Which beyond weights carry burdens
Sits firmly
To support a broken heart

These pews are not for saints alone
Neither are they a symbol for show off
The first row does not signify superiority
Neither does the last state a lack of commitment

Nor those occupied by priests portray holiness
Theirs could be different but we are all one
The color white doesn’t promote purity
Neither does style infer ungodliness

Chairs should be what they are, chairs
Nothing more
A support for comfort
Whether in church or at home

In Africa or in Rome
They should be to the pope
What they are to his congregation
An object for resting butts

Adedatryts, Imani Dokubo (c) 2019