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Christians at the Door
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


 

                                       

 

          Christians at the door

When Christians speak of Christ the Lord

We know the way you feel

You get annoyed, troubled and bored

To you! He isn’t real

 

You’re blind my friend, you fail to see

You think God’s Lamb a lie

He’d never die upon a tree

For such as you and I

 

To you; we’re fools, one should ignore

With lives devoid of fun

You just can’t wait close the door

Hoping we’d soon be gone

 

You think us strange to speak of God

You cringe hearing of hell

Yet deep inside you’re feeling odd

Though why? it’s hard to tell

 

You’re not the first to share this view

For I once too was blind

I thought of God the same as you

Till Jesus changed my mind

 

For selfish gain both night and day

I lived my life of sin

When Christ first called, I ran away

I wouldn’t let Him in

 

But when I saw Him on the tree

His arms to me held wide

Jesus again then called to me

This time I couldn’t hide

 

Christ lived and loved me then and now

He died for all my shame

And you my friend, if you would bow

He’d come to you the same.....


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Submitted: Saturday, February 25, 2012

Last Updated: Saturday, February 25, 2012

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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