The pews are hard, the floor is cold, the stain glass window dim;
is this the place where I must go to find and follow Him?
I do not know these people here, and they do not know me;
I wonder can these strangers know the Man from Galilee?
The gatekeepers accumulate, wherever I may turn,
handing out requirements His love to somehow earn.
These megachurches and storefronts; just how am I to know
which is recognized by God without a real halo?
And then it comes to me at last; no building do I need
to worship in simplicity without a rigid creed.
I fall upon my knees at home, His guidance to implore --
and when I rise there comes a welcome knocking on my door . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment