They whom He did not appoint
Appoint themselves His representatives―
Or have their churches do it for them,
Which makes it seem all the more official.
And once it’s done,
It falls to the masses
To dare to question whether Jesus
Had anything to do with the appointment or not―
As with their sermons and acts in office,
And the facade of authority in which it’s all clad.
Apparently, we’re not supposed to see that he has not
Appointed an apostle in all these centuries since
Nor they, any other,
Nor any further evangelist
Nor any such evangelist an elder.
Yet here stands the man,
Assuring us that God has called him
For such a time as this,
And hoping we are so desperate for hope
As to take at his word
He whom Jesus did not appoint.
He counts himself God’s gift to us,
And does not understand how
He is eclipsed a million times over
By the scriptures―between which and us
He attempts to place himself,
As if we had been in want
Before he came.
Even so, I must tell you that
He is so eagerly welcomed by those
Who never wanted the scriptures,
But only a man instead.
And they are satisfied.
And he is satisfied.
And it is just us few standing out here,
Shaking our heads at the whole thing,
And assuming at our own risk
That God is doing the same
And that He did not, somewhere along the line,
Change all the rules without letting us know.
And you can think me stupid if you want,
But I’m content to learn from the scriptures
It appears God has delivered to this generation―
Written by the tried-and-true prophets―
And to live my life to match as best I can,
Without following some self-attested,
Scripture-ignorant surrogate
As if any such thing were ever
Foretold favorably.
