When I was a kid, I wrote
all the time. I would spend hours in my room, typing on a Brother word processor, or writing on notebook paper. Stories and stories were scattered throughout my drawers. I also liked to write song lyrics. I never could figure out the tune....but the lyrics were easy. I found one tonight when I was cleaning out a drawer, probably the only one I saved. I was probably 16 or 17 when I wrote it, and in the midst of questioning the faith I had been raised in - and being silenced by those who should have encouraged my desire to learn: my teachers.
What Will They See?
Life, it is so easy
Gathering pieces here and there
Choosing one phrase and another
Creating a faith I perceive as fair
Making deals, bargaining my life
Knowing Christ will play my game
What will I trade to have something else?
Following rules I constantly change
What will they see?
Observing what I do so carefully
My words, my life, my appetite
Do I really shed some light?
Stepping out of myself
To look at me
Through their eyes
What will I see?
Without the leap, without the fall
Yet we preach supposed faith
Brandishing our weakness like a trophy
We present ouf version of love
Looking in, I know you find it strange
But I know what it is all about
Shall I deal you in? Are you ready to play?
Or are you going to sit this one out?
(Background: Not of truth, but of pleasantries
Not of mercy, but of doormats)
The god we serve is of pleasantries,
The lord we follow is a doormat,
The Christ we portray is weak,
Our rock is ground down to a pebble,
Yet we serve it
You light a candle,
He is on his knees
She follows traditions
They read prayers
Our children color pictures
They don't understand
How can we explain
what we don't comprehend