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Sunday Morning Empty
I sit inside the church house
And sing the age-old hymns.
I listen to the message
From which all blessing stems.
But somewhere deep inside me
I feel so set apart,
That all that goes on round me
Just skims right past my heart.
Is this what Jesus meant when
He said, "...Beware of men."?
The hurts and scars affect me.
They ache, and tear, and rend.
When Christian crushes Christian,
By word and deed and fault,
The healing process lingers.
For years sometimes it's wrought.
Because we somehow translate
What man does comes from God,
He said our steps are ordered.
Did He allow them me to rob?
I cannot comprehend it.
My mind just spins with weight,
And boggles down with sorrow,
And sometimes I near hate.
I'm trying hard to rebound,
To forgive, forget, and heal,
But I can't do it all alone.
Lord, I give to you my will.
JAG, I DID write this poem. I found it in one of MY OWN notebooks. One that I write in from time to time when I need to jot down my feelings. I am the author of EVERYTHING ON MY PAGES HERE AT POSTPOEMS. I hope you got some help from reading it.
Warmest Regards,
Jessica
THANK YOU FOR SENDING IN THIS POEM EVEN THOUGH YOU DIDN'T WRITE IT , IT DEEPLY TOUCHED MY HEART AND I REALLY NEEDED THOSE WORDS OF COMFORT. THANKS AGAIN
I thought it was beautiful! It isn't always easy to understand the actions of others...and sometimes we just get "lost in the sauce" trying to figure it all out! It was very well written...be proud!
I can relate to this. It's not so much that I despair more like I feel I am drifting a bit. Sometimes Church seems so repetitive and removed from my daily life and situations. Probably, deep down, I have to recognise that's it's my heart that has hardened and that God is as close as s/he's always been.
joan :-)