L-O-V-E

Where did we go wrong?

Now I don’t mean "we" as in "me", "he", or "she"

I mean "we" as in collectively

As a church body that was once so strong

Now everywhere we go we’re seen as wrong

As ignorant fools who preach morality

But live lives of scandal and jealousy

As young men who profess hope and grace

But turn to pornography to take His place

As young women of fire, truth and purity

Yet whose swollen bellies scream of lost virginity

As old news that’s come and gone

A tired refrain in a worn-out song

I can hear Him crying from up above

This wasn’t what He meant when He said “love”

Love is not tolerance of evil deeds

Or a passive attempt at planting seeds

That we hope will grow and praise the One

But that hope is too fragile, easily undone

No, Love is more than simply a word

Love is an action, Love is a verb

To actively give away what is given to you

And in the hard times see it all through

To embrace suffering with open arms

For the sake of the One who saves us from harm

 

He died, crucified for love

Whilst we sat by, our push became shove

We distanced ourselves from the One

Not heeding His words when He said “It is done”

But not even death could overcome

Our Great King who sent His Son

With death beaten, now life enduring

What started small began suddenly stirring

A relentless love, more than history itself

A beautiful pursuit that now gathers dust on a shelf

How could something so precious, something so fine

Be reduced to folklore, this love that is mine

He gave His all, His life for us

Yet over the little things we fuss

Over our clothes, our hair, material things

They’ve become our idols, our lovers, our kings

Whilst the Man, the One sits on His throne

Shaking His head and sighing “Come back home”

I heard His cry while I was still far away

Empty pockets, a pig pen, pitchfork and hay

And I knew that I would never be worthy, never be perfect as He

But maybe a servant in His house I could be

But as I placed each foot in front of the other

Shuffling back towards the One, my Father

He saw me, still covered in muck and grime

Ran to me, hugged me and shouted, "You are Mine!"

 

That isn't poetry, prose, or rhyme.

That is Love, of the purest kind.