PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I’m sorry for judging everything about you

from the things you say

and how you pray

to not seeing the world my way.  



I’m sorry I am so stagnant in my beliefs

that I don’t care you are willing to change yours

if we dared to open our heart’s doors.



No, we shut you out of homes,

our churches, our lives

in an attempt to survive

even if we end up alone.  



I’m sorry that we spread

our hate and judgment in the name of God

and we never said

that the reason we are saved

is because he bled on a cross

and shed the sins of humanity.



I’m sorry for the times

we shoved God into your face,

loved you with an empty embrace,

listed your faults instead of his blessings,

twisted Jesus’ name for our own repressing.  



We chose denying,

not realizing

you would be more open to Jesus

if we just spoke words of kindness

rather than preached sermons of wrath.



We warred with our brothers,

tried to even the score

using doubled edged swords

instead of the Word of the Lord.



We think we are better than everyone

but we are just full of ourselves.

We claim we're blameless

but then we hang our heads in shame

because we are not good enough

to proclaim His name.



The church is not the steeple;

it’s the people.

The house of God is not a place;

it’s the welcoming sea of faces.



We mean well

but we are making hell

look better

though it’s a prison cell.



Jesus called the broken, forsaken,

the scarred, guarded, hard-hearted.



He spread a message

of unconditional love and hope

and admission of impurities

but we minimized the scope

to eternal security.



I’m sorry I was unsympathetic

to your background

your language and baggage

and left you hell-bound.



I knew a pointing finger would not

be mistaken for a beckoning hand

and the world could be saved

if I had the guts to take a stand

against the critics,

the politics.



I’m sorry I call myself

a Christian;

I'm sorry for all the others too.



Forgive us, Lord.

We know not what we do.

We don’t really know you...at all.

Rewrite 2012

I’m sorry for judging everything about you
from the things you say
and how you pray
to not seeing the world my way.

I’m sorry I am so stagnant in my beliefs
that I don’t care you are willing to change yours
if we dared to open our heart’s doors.

No, we shut you out of homes,
our churches, our lives
in an attempt to survive
even if we end up alone.

I’m sorry that we spread
our hate and judgment in the name of God,
and we never said
that the reason we are saved
is because he bled
on a cross and shed
the sins of humanity.

I’m sorry for the times
we shoved God into your face,
loved you with an empty embrace,
listed your faults instead of his blessings,
twisted Jesus’ name for our own oppressing.

We chose denying,
not realizing
you would be more open to Jesus
if we just spoke words of kindness
rather than preached sermons of wrath.

We warred with our brothers,
tried to even the score
using doubled edged swords
instead of the Word
of the Lord.

We think we are better than everyone,
but we are just full of ourselves.

We claim we're blameless
but then we hang our heads in shame
because we are not good enough
to proclaim His name.

The church is not the steeple;
it’s the people.

The house of God is not a place;
it’s the welcoming sea of faces.

We mean well
but we are making hell
look better
though it’s a prison cell.

Jesus called the broken, forsaken,
the scarred, guarded, hard-hearted.

He spread a message
of unconditional love and hope
and admission of impurities,
but we minimized the scope
to eternal security.

I’m sorry I was unsympathetic
to your background
your language and baggage
and left you hell-bound.

I know a pointing finger would not
be mistaken for a beckoning hand,
and the world could be saved
if I had the guts to take a stand
against the critics,
the cynics, the politics.

I’m sorry I call myself
a Christian;
I'm sorry for all the others too.

Forgive us, Lord.
We know not what we do.
We don’t really know you...at all.