Jack Pelham

I don’t even think
They’ve paid enough attention
To notice really that there’s
More than one Jesus being put forward
By the churches—
Each one assuming it has got
The Right Jesus
Of course
Yet doing precious little
To check themselves
Against the entire record
And having no idea
Just how far off into the weeds
They have wandered.

There is hope in the morning
Even before the sunrise
Waiting underneath the dew
Like the What Is It? from Heaven
To be gathered
As much as one would like
Until it has melted with
The heat of the day.

Their mornings will come,
When they rise to discover
Just what He had meant
And how much He had meant it—

Who among us has no major flaws?
Who is not dysfunctional in some way?
Who has no immaturity of character?

Who is wholly honest and
Rational and
Responsible in every matter?

Your sins and errors
And limitations and quirks—
And even your different views
In matters of taste—
Are every the ready excuses
For those who would like to reject
Some point of truth that you are telling.

They don’t need much
To “justify” rejecting the truth,
For they are, after all,
Liars already.
So if you’ll provide
The slightest fault from which
They can start the rejection,
This saves them the trouble
Of having to start from scratch
With an excuse of their own.

If it’s not working,
Should I keep trying
Or should I quit?

If I could get you to care enough
About these matters
Of world-class importance—

If I could get you to
Dream your own dreams about them,
Rather than merely to lean on mine—

I told you I couldn’t
Hold out much longer
On my own,
And that I have to have help
Or I’ll crash and burn soon.

But I’m afraid that you
Didn’t really understand
That I was serious about that.

I have never been content
To busy myself with the mundane
Things of this world.

And, truth be told,
It’s fairly obvious
At this point
That I’m not likely
To start anytime soon.

You can talk about the deep things
With your friends,
But most aren’t very good at it.