They call me The Pastor
a ten year alcoholic who rose miraculously out of the bottle.

Who would have thought our  magnetically charged hearts
were tough as planets.

They call me The Pastor although my rough beginnings
  quickly kicked me out of God's House.

Or so I thought.

I roamed and bled ten thousand shades of darkness only to discover none of it was really mine.

How ironic.

They call me The Pastor, friends of mine, always seeking answers to tough riddles where they lay stretched out inbetween Wrong and Right.

They call me The Councillor for always listening to their problems.

Little did they know I was also trying to solve mine by seeing how they coped with theirs.

We are puzzle pieces to a mystery only we can solve by loving those fragmented parts of ourselves people closest to us threw away.

Do you realize how long it took for me to figure that out?

It feels like a thousand years.

They call me The Pastor even though I rarely quote from scripture.  

My church lives in the heart, in nature, in God's quiet whispers.

I do not claim any kind of righteous, fabulous glamour, nor do I take any money.

If you let people see your heart they will open up and listen.

They call me The Pastor
but I do not claim to be.

I only came by that name because after I roamed with Lions-

I was healed by Eternal Lamb.