Can one imagine the
depths of a man’s
soul?

Among anticipated crowds
of bleating sheep
and raised voices,

Eager to see the merchandise
each pitiful trinket,
worthless bauble

Compared to treasures
the Father stores
awaiting them in Heaven.

“Come one, come all,
a cross necklace for five dollars,”
the salesman cries out.

A Bible scenario,
envisioned before
my eyes.

“How about a WWJD bracelet?
The finest way to show your faith,”
the viper entices.

How the Pharisees themselves
would be pleased to see
such pointless profit.

Wicked! Wicked be all
who profane and abuse
the gospel!

“Take me, O Lord,”
I whisper, praying
for Him to come,

For Him to turn over
money tables, drive
out the greedy wolves,

Rescuing me from the
dishonesty and burden
society imparts to the church.

“Please come, O Lord”
I beg with bated breath,
falling upon my knees,

A mourner for all the
sin-infested nature
my kindred flesh.

From amid the growing,
suffocating crowd, ready
to squeeze life from me

The warm light of hope
flows through my body
flashing glimpses of his mercy,

A lullaby for my weary
and heartbroken soul,
for He is here, in the now.

Carry me away, Rabbi,
for I’m in your arms,
Heaven-bound.

Editor: Shannon Hensley