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Sunday morning Gospel

At a southern Baptist church

Praising with the choir

Listening to the Word of God

Where grudges are forgiven

And friendships re-united

We sinners find forgiveness,

Family, and a home

But here I sit

Alone at home

I couldn't be roused

To my own Father's house

I can hear the church bells in the distance

Calling white-washed tombs to repentance

Calling broken souls to be renewed

Calling crushed hopes to stand firm

Yet, here I sit

Looking out the window alone

Listening to their tolling

Refusing to be more

Than an armchair theologian

If my “deeds” are just words

Then they are not worth talking of

If I didn't speak to my Father today

Then why do I expect answers

If we are “the Body”

Why are we so apathetic

So CONSUMED by our own lives

That our faith wastes away

And as these thoughts come to me

I make myself more comfortable

Still refusing to be any more

Then an armchair theologian.