God Divine?!

Crippled.

Alone.

Cold from the intravenous drip into my religious ideology.
The world’s theology condoning spiritual apathy.
My faith begins to atrophy.

Believing in God, but living like there is no He.
Lower casing his divine and dividing the trinity.

We…

…justify the Man as less than celestial and wonder why He’s an absentee.
Our prayers are thrown like hail Mary’s to the Father’s gridiron boundary.
We’ve resolved the Holy Spirit as childish fantasy.

Christian Atheism is common place in circles of ecclesial communities.

Christianity is what we do and not what we’re supposed to be.

Crippled.

Alone.

Cold from countless unanswered prayers.
Requests are like skip vinyls on God’s 45 players.
Running from truth, so I pile on layers and layers

Of obscure scriptural interpretations.
Conclude that divination is my own understanding and exposition.
Thereof.

When are we gonna stop playing gods, while blaming the God of creation?
For every willing nation, ironically, His Majesty embraces palpitations
In place of our hesitations.

Jump in the car and let God take you somewhere.
Anywhere.
Anywhere but here.
Here is the intersection of godlessness and self loathing arrogance.
Steering in the wrong direction we run over emergency cones and spike strips.

Emergence in the dead of night, He departed glory and stepped into humanity.

Crippled.

Alone.

Cold from the multitude of icy blank stares,
Yet they were unaware of His redeeming affair.
His glare brightened darkness’ grip and dissolved our despair.

On the cross absorbing spits and insults with no questions asked.
Clasped His wrists on top of the splinter ridden branch.
He is the Tree of Life with streams flowing past our own demise and…

…He took His last breath while time stood still.
He revealed His Glory and all prophecies fulfilled.
We tried to trample over His humility, so His truth concealed.

But it didn’t work.

The Great I Am jammed grace into the lungs of death.
Left perplexed, evil scattered as far as the sun’s rest,
Buried in the Pacific’s oceanic depths.

Crippled.

Alone.

Cold from the blow of defeat.
Inhales are louder than frantic pitter pattering feet.
Racing elsewhere and back over blood stained streets.

Dissolution lie destitute and abandoned.
No remorse for its lies and shenanigans.

Defeated.

God victorious.

Creation rescued.

Healed.

Glorious.

Redeemed.

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