We all slowly grew up.

Stopped sewing patches of fabric
Into our shirts
To hide our *******,
Replaced the Christian music on our shelves and playlists
With pop, and emo songs,
Or old rock and roll.
Toby Mac was slowly retired to the thrift store,
And some of us stopped going to church.
In some small way,
I’m sure it felt to our parents
As if Jesus had died all over again.

Our vocabularies changed,
The lists of things we wouldn’t do before marriage became shorter
And shorter,
Until to some,
They were non existent.

Alcohol became as regular
As morning coffee,
And ****
A little extra seasoning.

Self destruction
Instead of
Preserving
The purity
Our parents forced on us
From day one.

The door opened,
It flew open.
There’s something about a door being opened
That was closed your entire
Life
That makes you want to go in.

Easter outfits
And gold cross necklaces
Turned into tattoos
And nose rings.
We got out into the world
And discovered
That people who don’t throw
Bible verses around
Like confetti
Aren’t bad,
And the cautionary tales of our youth
Were something we wanted to try.

Red nail polish
Was considered promiscuous,
And now it’s a tame
Contribution to our wardrobes.
Our first tattoos
Made some of our parents cry.

No more
Sending us back to our rooms
To change out of
An outfit
Unfit
For church,
No more warning
About wearing colors
That are too bright.

I study verses
And wonder
What God thinks
Of his people dressing up
His dying son
Like a trick poodle at a circus.
Displaying him proudly
When he does what they want,
Hoping the crowd won’t notice
When he ignores
Their orders.

We all slowly grew up,
And I found my own faith.
A kinder one,
With a loving just God.