Tag: religion

A LETTER TO MY OLD RUGGED CROSS

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Dear old rugged cross
Blessed are you among wood and timber
Because on you rested the greatest sacrifice ever
On that night at Golgotha
On you was my Jesus crucified
And now I stand justified
Before the God of my salvation and life

Dear old rugged cross
It hurts to tell you that many are lost
And those who remain cling to a civilised cross
They have forsaken the ancient landmark
While on a self-satisfaction task
Ignorantly falling to damnation on a fast track

Yes you may have seen some violence
But not as much as there is in my presence
For the love of men wax cold
And iniquity is in abundance
The time of true faith fades away
And religion, false belief finds its way
And unfortunately, the Christians refuse to take their place

I must confess you are quite heavy
And I might stumble and fall on this journey
But all my cares on Jesus I lay
Dear old rugged cross
On you, I sacrifice all my flaws
As I wait for my Lord’s applause

Yours sincerely,
The Young Believer


Ezeonyeka Godswill
(C) 2011

Which Way

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The broad way is tempting.
So spacious, it feels liberating
This disguised bondage
The broad way seems like the logical option
The right answer, The convenient choice
The broad way is the new cool, the celebrated path

And the narrow way seems too lonely
Not wide enough to walk in properly
So I’m always stumbling
Falling head over heels
Trying to keep up with God
Looking up to religion
The author and finisher of my misery
The tormentor of my soul
On this middle ground, my body is in Canaan and soul in Egypt.

I make choices that betray my words
I take steps that draw me back
I’m a little bit of both
But not quite of any
What do you call light with a dash of darkness?

I was on the brink of desperation
Ready to resignation to fate
Surrender to my mistakes
Let myself go
Then He spoke to me, reminded me of what He had said
That His love was louder than my drowning voice
That His grace was stronger than my weak resolve
His Word outweighed my will
His promises infinitely greater than my grave mistakes.

Nothing compares to the safety net of His love
That He would never leave me
He’s right there with me
Not shaking in anger, but extending his grace
That saves me from the sinking sand of religion
In His grace I find strength
To overcome, to live His life
to take a sharp turn off the broad way
to the road less travelled
The path paved by His sacrifice alone

So in life or death
In sickness or health
In my lowest or my highest
I rest easy because
Nothing compares to the promise I have.

Damaris Akhigbe
(C) 2022

Enough

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“Madam, would you like anything else?”

No.

I’ve. Had. Enough.

I’m done with this junk you serve on a platter
This sorry excuse of a diet
That I swallow,
To convince myself that I’m eating
A 5 second prayer, one verse of scripture
To convince myself that I’m growing…
I’m sick of it!

I’m tired of your new recipes
Food that feeds on me.
Superficial Christianity with a dash of religion,
Truth served rare with ego stuffings.
Glamorized gospels that are far from good news
leaving me bloated, constipated
full of myself and void of Him.

And what’s with the drinks?
Sweet to taste, but leaves an unquenchable thirst
words promising but empty
incapable of answering life’s burning questions
Don’t you serve Living Water??

And why is your food so costly?
your charges are outrageous!
My relationship with God, My peace, My joy, My destiny is too high a price.

So I’m sorry Mediocre Christianity
I won’t be having any more.
I’ve. Had. Enough.

Damaris Akhigbe
(C) 2020

Sunday Perfect

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Praise the Lord
I knew I shouted in response
But for the life of me I wonder
Why my eyes are closing in slumber
Maybe we should get a more interesting pastor
And I’d get more from my day at church

So I believe all that he says
But he has no idea what I’ve had to face
Its easy to talk when on that stage
Tis so sad but I’ll listen anyways
Maybe we should get a more compassionate pastor
And I’d get more from my day at church

My shoes hurt and I’m already hungry
We should be done by now one could imagine
So the fact that I zone out is no mystery
Might as well do something else, anything really
Maybe we should get a more time concious pastor
And I’d get more from my day at church

Wow wow oh wow I think my mind has gone numb
Our Pastor is absolutely the bomb
But I have not a clue what He’s shouting about
I’m trying sincerely I am and still dont know
Maybe we should get a more down to earth pastor
And I’d get more from my day at church

Like seriously… not again
I feel like last week cos this service is exactly the same
Am I the only one tired of this routine we run
Whatever happened to the dynamism and creativity in us
Maybe we should get a more flexible pastor
And I’d get more from my day at church

Oh my God, I cant believe he said that
He should know better after all he is the pastor
Hasn’t he heard, hasn’t he read or is he just clueless
oh no, he said it again nonetheless
Maybe we should get a more informed pastor
And I’d get more from my day at church

I always thought the worth of our day at church
Depended on the choir or the pastor that preached the word
See church was always meant to be a gathering of believers
For fellowship, cohesive growth and strength the Holy Spirit our teacher
Just maybe if we could all look up to Jesus and no one else
Everyday would be worth more to a perfect end
and then I will get more from my day at church.

– Ezeonyeka Godswill
(c) 2016

WHEN I AM DEAD

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When I’m dead and my tombstone is among the press,
More than fame, did I hug the pressed?
More than religion, did I know deep rest
Or just live with my mouth open…
Never having enough?

Will they say I was circular, just because I circulated?
Will they call me gospel, because I mostly showed up in church clothes?
More than “famzing”, did I have family?
More than pain, did bring relief…
or was pointing fingers the point of hands?

The Niel

©2020

Lasisi gaping sticker

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When I’m dead and my tombstone is among the press,
More than fame, did I hug the pressed?
More than religion, did I know deep rest
Or just live with my mouth open…
Never having enough?

Will they say I was circular, just because I circulated?
Will they call me gospel, because I mostly showed up in church clothes?
More than famzing, did I have a family?
More than pain, did I bring relief…
or was pointing fingers the point of my hands?

The Niel
©2020

A fool

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Let me be a fool;
Lend to a friend that never refunds
With him going not a sorrowing
Break my fast at night
Sharing with a pot-bellied drunk
Without puncturing his food-filled belly

Let me be a fool;
Forgive the most heinous crimes
with no reference to ‘forgive but don’t forget’;
Unlearn the act of saying ‘No’;
Yes to my inconvenience and sufferance
If it’s in giving a helping hand

Let me be a fool;
Grow a heart so big it’s a foster home
For all religion, colour, status and age
Curl over grenades of lies, abuse and hurt
In a bid to save my home

Let me be a fool;
Be silent for the sake of peace
And Eloquent for love
End the search for purpose
And embrace love as my sole purpose

Let me be a fool;
Travel miles on foot for love
With no clue what to expect at my destination;
Still travel with a prior prophecy of doom of my trip
Let me be a fool for love
Let me live and die for love

ChyD
© 2019

WE, THE INDEPENDENT ONES

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We are they that ride on the waves,
Of ideas, beautiful manifestos of the 50s,
The very spittle that our mother told us if dried before the 60s,
Our navels would rot,

We are the child born in lies,
A fatherless child of 250 fathers,
A child that reminds our mother of this rape called amalgamation,
The child who is half of everything,
Whose strength should be in being everything,
Yet one thing rules: the cancer of corruption,

We are this child in dependence,
To the blind, senseless man that knew how we were delivered from,
This very deep inferno between our mother’s leg,
We encourage ourselves with hopes in things,
Things our reality tells us can never be,
We are married to Religion,
These new Masters that promise us mansions and virgins when we,
Like the worms, cringe and bow out of this stage,

We are hungry,
Milk and honey we dare not wish for,
Our elder brothers eat honey,
They told us to pray,
If we dared stared too long into his plate, he would slay,
The nascent dream we have,

We are independent,
Masters of our own,
Slaves to our elder brothers,
Who constantly tell us that the rudders will be ours one day,
Yet make their sons our master when,
Need be…..
Happy Independence Day.

Chukwu Simeon Chidiebere
© 2018