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Church Without Walls
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Church Without Walls

 

Crosses festoon high roofs and doors

Grand windows fixed with lead

Footsteps echo on marble floors

Through structures cold and dead

 

Stained glass windows grand pillared halls 

Towers pointing above

But too few churches without walls

Serving with Heaven’s Dove

 

Where is the fear of yesteryear?

Wisdom for Jesus’ bride

Her selfless love her bidden care?

Drawing God’s sheep inside

 

Too busy living in the past

Drinking the same old wine

Still going nowhere quick and fast

With necks as stiff as iron

 

But God’s ordained His church should thrive

Gloriously sublime

In righteousness all to survive

Beyond the tests of time

 

With Calvary’s cross in constant view

It’s bearer plain in sight

God’s chosen bride Christ’s faithful few 

Should rise in robes of white

 

Life’s battle’s raging wild outside

The dragon seeks his prey

Still masses seek churches to hide

Though Christ is on His way

 

But praise The Lord, some see The Light

Experience Truth first hand

Faith prepared to stand and fight 

Serving as Jesus planned.....


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Submitted: Sunday, May 29, 2016

Last Updated: Tuesday, May 31, 2016

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.


Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


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