Lambs of God

To: The body of Christ
From: A Lost Sheep

I am one of the millions. I am hurting and lost. Let me tell you my story. Even though you have heard it countless times, different versions of the same theme, perhaps this time you will actually listen.

I, like millions, have had to deal with great pain and sorrow. My version of the story is death. I was once one of you. I was full of “faith and power.” I wanted to “conquer the world for Christ.” I was blind, naive, and stupid, just like most of you sitting there.

Then, in one blinding moment, I lost my blinders and woke up. I lost someone close to me to a very horrible death. Suddenly, I was alone, scared, and hurt.

Oh yes, you made all the right noise and gestures. I heard your sympathy and pity but did not feel it and after a couple of months, I disappeared. My world was gone, shattered, and suddenly I did not exist. Let me explain. One month after the death, you all gathered around me and called and wrote and listened. Two months later your lives returned to normal and I was forgotten. Three months and I did not exist to you. A year and I became dead to you.

I see you are growing uncomfortable. Half of you can not even look me in the eyes. You feel guilty and you are not quite sure why. I know why. You forgot. You forgot about me and how I could possibly be doing, you forgot about my pain and you forgot my existence because it made your life a little easier. YOU FORGOT!!! Because your comfort zone was violated.

Now there are exceptions to every rule. A couple of people called and asked how we were doing and they were my lifelines. Even though it may have seemed that I did not want to talk, I still listened. Only a few people out of an entire church bothered to call and ask me if I was OK or to check to see if I was even alive.

I know your excuse. “I was busy.” Sure you were. I understand. You say that I could have called you. Sure!

You were too busy on the night I took my first drink. You were too busy the day I learned about drugs. You were too busy the day I had sex. You were too busy the day I learned to masturbate. Just one question: Will you be too busy tomorrow to come to my funeral?

Being the great Christian people that you are, I am sure that you can all quote me Matt. 25:42. but just in case you don’t remember, I’ll help you out.

For I was hungry-for friendship, love, acceptance, understanding- and you gave me nothing to eat. I was thirsty- longing to know that you cared- and you gave me nothing to drink. I was a stranger- I do not fit into your mold – and you did not – would not- invite me in. I needed clothes – warmth and protection against a cruel and heartless world – and you did not clothe me. I was sick – yet none of you took the time to see if I would be OK – and in prison – my mind, body and soul were locked in despair, agony, rage – and you did not look after me.

“ I tell you the truth, what ever you did not do to one of the least of these you did not do for me.”

I will fully take responsibility for my actions and decisions. Think about yours. The things you do today could save my life tomorrow.

In closing I offer two poems for you:

Do not tell me all your lies
Or reveal your selfish motives.
No one hears your stupid cries
Telling me how much you care.
Let me explain to you, give you
Insight. The problem is we all have
Enormous pain. Everyone is blue.
True, we all hurt but do not tell me
Or make me believe you are listening to
Me. I listen to you cry and I offer
Everything I have. I expect the same.
DO NOT LIE TO ME!

Wool
Mouths drop, sentences stop
“What did he say?”
“…How could he?”
“…the nerve…”
“Just have faith…”
Don’t give me another empty cliché.
Don’t tell me I just to pray.
Do I shock you? I’m sorry.
Do I mock you? Don’t worry
It’s just that:
After 16 Years of searching the skies
I realize
That faith is a wool,
And I need my eyes.


Blaze