An Open Letter To “Societal Christians”.

Dear Societal Christians,
I wrote a poem for you.

It seems like,
“I grew up in a loving Christian household”,
Automatically constitutes you
As a believer.

I call BS.

Being a Christian
Has become a cliché.
John 3:16
And be on your merry way.
God Bless America,
And Godspeed to you all.
Being a Christian
Is a new accessory,
I hear they sell it at the mall.

Find a cool pillow?
Slap some scripture on it.
Sending a letter?
Don’t forget your
catchy endline:
God Be With You.
Deo Volente.

Forgot to buy a present,
For that person’s birthday?
Don’t sweat it,
Here’s a fancy study bible,
And pen that won’t bleed through.

A friend told you they’re struggling?
Just say,
I’ll be praying for you.
Asking for grace and peace,
To be bestoweth upon ye.

How are the hipsters doing it?
King James Version please.
Extra bolded, red letter
Jesus text,
And do you happen to sell
Ancient Jerusalem coffee, too?

How are the celebrities doing it?
I thank the academy,
My family,
My fans,
And most of all the man upstairs
God Bless you all.

It’s a perk,
For publicity,
For status.
“I’ve gotta have some religion,
How about this ‘Jesus’ fellow?”

His name gets thrown around,
So loosely,
So wrong.
“God Hates Fags”
“Got Porn? Burn in Hell”
“Believe or Jesus won’t love you”

Christians today,
Are no Christians at all.
Christ isn’t centered,
The society is.
And it’s about to fall.

What’s the point of believing,
Just to say you do?
Christianity isn’t a religion,
It’s a relationship,
One you can freely

I don’t want to be in it
For the title.
I want to be in it for
The salvation.
Not to make myself
An idol.

Our society,
It’s a mess that
sells lies,
and false prophecies.
It sells fake gods,
And is full of hypocrisy.

You tell me
I’ll burn in hell,
For not joining on the
Band wagon.

But that’s where you are
For that wagon,
is on a one way trip,
To eternal damnation.

I will sit here,
And try to decipher my faith.
But I sure know,
It’s not available on fake money,
Laying on the side of the street.

Christianity isn’t pretty.
A man was
Spat on,
With three nails.

If one more person tells me,
Their faith is on a pillow,
A letter,
Based on words,
To give them a title,
I’ll only say one thing:
You’ve got it all wrong.

Christ didn’t suffer
So we could plaster his name
Over everything.
He suffered and died,
So we wouldn’t have to.
He suffered to save our lives.

Money and riches
Can’t buy you eternal life.
Not even objects with verses
Covering them.
We will only reach heaven
if we carry our crosses,
And follow him
Until the day that we die.

But sure,
That’s a cute pillow.
And look!


Your Adventures Await…Go Forth & Conquer!

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