Just Because Love

You don’t know how much you’ve hurt me, do you?

Up there with your corner office view,

where you don’t have to see street level kids like me

who suffer at your insistence of so-called purity.

What love is there, among your skyscrapers of divine dogma?

Where is the humility wearing the skin of another human being,

saved by power and mystery beyond our understanding?

What happened to the just because of Jesus’ love?

When did you get to decide that the Church is only open to

the mentally competent

the emotionally stable

the wealthy middle class

the white skinned

the able-bodied?

And when did you get to decide that it’s your job

to fix anything you perceived as wrong?

Did you forget that we were made where we belonged,

and how we came out of the womb is as precious as who we’ll be when entombed,

and the journey of our brokenness is a reminder of the hope we will embrace soon?

When did you forget that you too, are wretched?

And that in your wretchedness even you were found, saved, loved?

To think–you are still there!

You, Church, just as disastrous as before, as caustic and in need of compassion

as the ones you deem worthless in your hateful eyes, from your haughty rise.

I’ve been in your offices and you have ripped wounds into me.

I’ve sat in your pews only to leave bleeding and ignored.

If I was a cripple entering your doors, I am more damaged in my leaving,

but I come back once more.

I come back not with any vengeance, nor malice nor mischief,

but simply this plea:

Come see.

Come see the just because love,

the it doesn’t matter what you were love,

because it all has shaped us into who we are, love.

And we will be

Beautiful, Beloved.   


About thefreescribbler

My life is one of words. I am a scribbler, whose thoughts are best expressed through adjectives and phrases and punctuation marks. I would not go so far as to call myself a writer, although many would disagree. I’m characterized more by my unfinished works and half-embodied ideas, scraps of stories and parts of poems. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, but I’m okay with being a scribbler right now. It fits my personality and style, and best expresses my aims. I’m not trying to create some lofty version of literature. I’m just a kid blogging about life. View all posts by thefreescribbler

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