Deeper shade of grey | 5

I

have to admit that I am not big on poetry. Even the more worthy stuff makes me shudder and I find my mind disappearing into itself. It simply doesn’t happen for me. I try, but nothing. While people are smiling knowing and truly appreciating the art in words, all I hear is “blah…blah… blah…. blah…” Sorry. Even the jolly stuff with a bit of humour, again nothing - ok I am a poetry philistine!! It surprises me then that I have kept this poem - it makes me smile and grimace.

CHURCH

I go to church and it’s a bore.
Fewer and fewer darken its door.
Twelve-stringed worship leader is in a right muddle,
Wants all to know he’s part of the holy huddle.
Gathered up like a blessed rugby scrum.
Flute, tambourine and hell on drum,
All stand up faces aglow
Adjust the mic, check flies, good let’s go.

I stand in church and it’s a chore.
Described as a mother, described as a whore.
Read scripture and pray for a while.
Wait for that silence and twelve string’s knowing smile.
Sing a song about ineffably sublime.
I’m sure the writer put that in just to rhyme!
Stand up, sit down, I wish he’d make up his mind.
Bag comes round, I rummage but no money I find.

I sit in church and look at the floor.
While those around me begin to snore.
I count brick and organ pipe.
Open prayer – time for a moan and a gripe.
I’m sat next to her with eyes of blue.
She looks at me as only your own kids do.
You say you love me and you brought me here.
Only here far an hour just seems like a year.

I fidget in church I know it’s against the law.
But I think it’s the curry from the night before!
The preacher, he’s gone off on one,
A sermon that’ll run and run.
“And in conclusion I’d like to end
With some holy thought someone dead once penned.”
Hurry up mate, my bladder’s gonna burst.
Have to beat the oldies and get to the bog first!

I leave the church like I’ve done before.
Lord, is she really Your beloved the one You adore
Your lover, Your bride
The one for whom You bled and died?
Lord, give me your eyes to see
Cos something at church don’t feel right to me.
I’m not sure it’s what you intended it to be,
A club for those of respectability.

I dream of a church – Good news to the poor,
Salt, light and so much more.
Where worship is more than singing a song.
Where belief comes after belong.
Of course a church which is theologically sound.
But theology that works down on the ground.
A church which is truly sanctuary.
And Lord it’s OK to start with me.

(Anonymous)
Published in faithworks news, Issue 6, 2006

Deeper Shade of Grey is written by Capt. Gordon Cotterill, an officer in London, England. Click here to read a more complete bio of Gordon. Shades of Grey appears every Wednesday on theRubicon and Gordon’s writing also appears on his own blog.

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