Lord, have mercy on this passionless throng- Your Bride

Lord, we squander the breadth of Your Grace in meaningless mud of the circumspect
We die in hollow tabernacles of analysis
we huddle together for tea and crumpets when better fare rots under the sun of apathy
We no longer starve for greatness for we are filled with ether of spiritual slumber.
We, the Church, have taken up hobbies of politics and cruel condemnation.
Lord have mercy on climate controlled atmospheric rhetoric that lulls our senses
The spectacular advent is ignored and the elation (our birth rite) is a failed formulaic forecast of futility.
We are far too easily satisfied with the status.
We are far too critical of the wave on the horizon.
Our eyes have been blinded to bliss.
While heaven's gain is ours.
Where is the desperation of slowly sifting sand?
Time will no more.
God's kingdom is at hand.

(You created us for more than this.)

Comments

[jeffatwood]

great...though i must admit when i read the title the first time I thought it said "...have mercy on this passionless THONG..."

[matt]

hmmmmmmmm...