Where are you going?
Hell or heaven?
It's 5 am. The sun is just peeking over the summer corn fields. You count the "God is Real" signs. It's a fun game when there's nothing else to do in the back seat of the car. Right now? You've counted two.
The Lord be with you.
And also with you.
You spent your childhood in the church. God was constant. He walked with you. You saw him in your father. A father that you made up to replace the real one. He wasn't suitable enough for you. He should have been suitable enough for you
Lift up your hearts.
We lift them up to the lord.
You woke up early every Sunday, put on your flats and dress. You kicked your feet in the air; they didn't quite touch the floor. You leaf through a Bible, the red ones they have on the pews. You read Revelations.
Let us give thanks to the Lord, our God
It is right to give him thanks and praise
Your parents stayed after church most Sundays. There were no other kids to play with. So, you continued to read your Bible. The Whore of Babylon, the seven-headed beast. They looked down upon you, hungry.
This is the body of Christ
Broken for you
You liked communion. You were always starving by the time it came around in church. It gave you the chance to eat. You ate too much. Or perhaps too little. Your appetite was never satisfied.
This is the blood of Christ
Shed for you
Blood. You are no stranger to it now. To it's smell as you are nailed to the cross as a martyr. As you got older, you learned. The church would not bleed for you. It never did.
This is the day that the lord has made
Let us rejoice and be glad in it
You no longer recognize your face in the mirror and the shattered crown of thorns that adorns your head no longer shines with blood. You do not know god. You do not know yourself. You long for the childhood of the church.
Oh come, oh come
Emmanuel
You cannot look a preacher in the eyes. You sing hymns with tears dripping down your face. They have turned you away, yet you have never ceased to love them with all your heart.
Have mercy on us, O lord
For we have sinned against you
I am not who I once was. I read Revelations, and I am no longer afraid. My life. My holy matrimony. My abstinence. My clean, untainted lies. My world no longer breathes.
This is not my church.
This is not my house of worship.
I have found solace in the whispering of the trees
I have found peace in the heartbeat of the city
I am altered, changed, yet holy.
Forgive me, Father.
For I have sinned.
I do not know you as I once did.
And I do not feel the power of your spirit flowing through me
I raise my hands to the sky
I beg for hollow forgiveness
Knowing that no change will come.
Still, church.
It's a habit, an obligation.
That you go, you sit in the pew.
You pick up a bible.
You read Revelations.
