A Matter Of Faith
I’ve always thought that statue says a whole lot more about you than him.
It really does.
Funny way to honour someone who loved you ain’t it?
I’ve seen that headstone you had made for your momma, the one that you and Frank spent 6 months wages on. It’s real nice. It really is. Very respectful. See I don’t know you, I don’t know Frank and I didn’t know your late momma neither but just looking at that headstone I can see how much she meant to the two of you. Maybe it’s the marble you spent so long choosing; glows in the sunlight, glistens when it rains. Maybe it’s that beautiful font you chose; respectful yet familiar. Or maybe it’s the way you decided an actual depiction of the Greyhound bus cutting her station wagon in two.
Now I know most of you folks gave up on the whole commandments deal some time ago so I’ll gloss over the graven image issue foe a moment but is this seriously how you all choose to remember three decades of feeding the hungry, curing the sick and healing the lame? You spend your week ignoring God’s laws and by way of atonement you get up early on a Sunday and kneel before this twisted tableau of torture? And you’ve still got the neck to pray? To pray for Jimmy to get a promotion, for Fido’s arthritis to get better, for Saturday Night Live to be good again? And you think it’s him who ain’t listening?
You should be praying to God for forgiveness but truth is you’ve been sinning so long you can’t even remember what it is you need forgiving for. You’re so soaked in sin that you don’t even see it no more. Once in a while someone figures it out. Sees the way to paradise. Speaks out. Tells you to wake up and live better lives. Tells you just how close to paradise you really are. And for a moment you listen. You’re drawn to them. Entranced by them. You declare them a prophet, a new messiah. Then comes mistrust. Then fear. Then a Judas comes to your rescue and you trot back to your trough, snout deep in your own lives.
And then I come along and ask you to take a look at yourself and instead you look at me. I ask you to question your lives and you question mine.
You ask is this the Second Coming? Am I the saviour? Is my flesh the will of God? These men and women who left their jobs and families to live a life of simple worship, are they my disciples? This humble home we share, is it a fortress or a temple?
I can’t answer your questions. I am but an instrument of God and he alone knows my purpose. I shall remain here among true believers. I shall reject your world, your sin, your greed and live by the laws of the One True God and the by teachings of his son Jesus Christ until by divine revelation I know my destiny.
Not that it matters who I am or what I believe, because you’ll come for me anyway. Your fear, your greed and your arrogance will bring you to my house.
Before you come to my house know this; the lamb of god can also be his lion.
Before you come to my house know this; it was you that made the rules. It was you who decided that the word of God weren’t enough. It was you wrote laws of your own. It was you who decided man was fit to judge right from wrong.
Before you come know this; I will defend his Ten Commandments with your Second Amendment.