“a righteous man picks up his cross, gathers his loss, and walks- reaching for the heavens, speaking to a passerby, talking about the afterlife and how good Jesus is-“
meanwhile- another baby body is bent and broken by a father’s “bravery” to believe in something bigger than the breaths of his boy, his girl, his new born Bethlehem- Because Jesus called him.
-I find it hard to believe- that God in his glorious grace would give you a mission, to leave their sweet faces and depart from this place to carry a block of wood to witness to others while losing your children your wife your love your spirit your humanity- i don’t think God has called you to anything-
You’re another pompous prophet Professing his prophecies to impressionable people To hide the fact that you’re facing much more than you fear to mention And that you haven’t heard the voice of the lord or felt his love’s tension And you carry this cross, but haven’t picked the one up in your eye; you are week and feeble. You speak of goodness But bring nothing but sorrow You speak of love Yet love to hate, You think yourself a high priest, But you are no servant. Let the blood of a bitten tongue Be the pain lasting longer Than your false song Slowly getting stronger.