I Came to the Church [A Poem]

I came to the Church building on a Sunday morn,

all soured and upset with strife.

And, wouldn’t you know it, as I came inside and sat down,

no one cared for my life.

Oh, some smiled and some said “hello,”

but it was clear they were just doing their job.

They asked how I was and acted concerned,

but I know their ruse–they were just simple words to lob.

I came to the Church building hurt and distraught;

it had been a tough week filled with stress.

And so many I saw were smiling and greeting,

and I found my life to be blessed.

They spoke not many words, just a simple “hello,”

but it meant so much to be seen.

I could tell that they cared because they saw me there,

and I knew that their heart wasn’t mean.

I went to the Church building to prove a clear point:

Those Christians are hypocrites; all fake.

And, of course, as I knew, there sat Sally and Drew,

Two people who make many big mistakes.

I knew that the people there were just putting on airs,

They think they are better than me.

So I won’t go back, because that place is a drag,

Even though they claim to love Jesus, I see.

I went to the Church knowing I wasn’t perfect,

and neither is anyone else.

I found a group of folks who just wanted to praise

and needed forgiveness, so humility was felt.

I heard when they prayed that they confessed sin

And some had a tear on their cheek.

They know that they sin, and don’t want to again,

Maybe they are not fake; just meek.

I went to the Church and the preacher was mean,

He called me down for my sin.

It was obvious that he was picking on me,

so I’ll never go back there again.

I went to the Church and the preacher taught truth

That cut right to my heart filled with sin.

It was obvious that I needed to make a change in my life

so I won’t commit that sin again.

“The singing was draggy.” “The words were so great.”

“The prayers were too long.” “The prayers were filled with faith.”

“The sermon was boring.” “God’s Word is so grand!”

“Those people weren’t genuine.” “Someone actually shook my hand!”

The same building, the same people, the same Sunday morn,

but two very different views of what went on in the doors.

And why is that the case? Here’s the answer, I implore:

Even at Church, you can find what you are looking for.