Dear Pastor

CalvaryChapelDoveDear Pastor,

Here we are again.

For me it is different.

For you it is exactly the same.

God.

You spoke his name on weathered lips from pulpits where you would best shine; at a pen filled with pigs willing to eat anything –willing to eat everything.

Every now and again a sheep becomes caught in your pen. When they look to their Word and then look to your narcissism, they can see you are different. Different from the things which you ought be and ought have been when measured by the Scriptures you’re supposed to be feeding them.

Wolf.

Ghost.

Wolf.

Dear pastor.

Here we are again.

For me it is different.

For you it is exactly the same.

I wandered bewildered in a wilderness of theology held up by the many academic facets that forms its complexity. This pursuit I began in my youth. Twelve years and I know enough to know that I will never know enough, yet know enough to know that you don’t know that God and the god that falls from your weathered lips are not the same.

I know enough to know your shame is your gospel is not the Gospel, but the carefully cut and catered moralistic deism that finds its deity in other people’s pain. Pain you heaped on the heads of those who couldn’t walk the line; or those whose walk and talk couldn’t be conformed to your cross-shaped box.

Dear Pastor.

Here we are again.

For me it is different.

For you it is exactly the same.

Dear pastor,

You are shit at your job. Calling on others to counsel for you, so you can hide behind the “I never said that” feigned innocence. Lying to your pigs, misleading your sheep, all so you can keep the income that allows you to so comfortably sleep on top of all the agony you hand out each week.  Anyone can summarize and repeat.

But to repent…

Your people never learned that. Never learned that sin comes in while we are distracted by ourselves allowing us to easily strike out relentlessly. To repent is to identify that I am wrong, give up, turn away, make amends; you taught it is to pretend that no wrong has ever been –abusing the Word that teaches love covers a multitude of sin. This is dangerous.

How many bodies must pile up before the stench overwhelms false love defined by gift giving and ego fucking? For how long will you keep peace with losing sheep and not sleep?

Dear pastor,

Here we are again.

For me it is different.

For you it is exactly the same.

LIESAfter all this time I can say with confidence that what you call Christian isn’t. And that cliff looks over an edge whose bottom is filled with pigs. And before it is too late, I hope they learn that your way leads only to the wide gate.

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About Z.

Poetic pipe and cigar enthusiast rifling through the haunted memories of a not so distant past while openly wrestling with faith and God. A rambling writer with the misguided notion that he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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