“Your God is boring”
The words I hear, not in their mouth,
But by their petty smile and laugh
And patronizing nod
“so you want to be a minister?”
“that’s nice, don’t we need more of those…”
More harmless nice guys,
more role models
More morality.
Just morality.
But their nice words, sweet and sugary
Torment me.
And make me wonder
Maybe my God is boring…
Look at my church, my life, my zeal
So positive, nice and happy
And yet I reel
Because it all feels to wooden,
painted,
plastic.
Do they know they give a Judas kiss?
That heaven and hell are between us fixed
Blind they do not see what I must see
And frozen they cannot feel what I must feel
To stand, to preach, to pray, to call, to cry,
To blow up their playgrounds and make them battlegrounds
Destroying their glittering idols for the God who is fire
No, if someone is boring it is me
But God is not nice—“he’s no tame lion”
In fire and wrath he descends from Zion
To bring sunrise on this frozen world
Awake! You are his enemy in the flesh,
Without his cross an eternal death
And come and hear a word that thaws
Bends, blows, breaks, and saws
Our hearts in two to make them whole
No, God is not boring.
I may be.
My words may be.
My love may be.
But it is not He.
