Sooooooooo latley I have been frustrated with alot of things that have been stemming from this world:Exspecially my generation. I know I am not one to talk because I am in NO position to judge. But the Word of God tells us that we need to clean up (I am paraphrasing) our act so that when we evangelize and tell others about the goodness of Christ, we are not telling people something we should be doing OURSELVES. I admit, I am nowhere near where I need to be in my spiritual walk. But I just thought that I would write a letter to my generation, to me as well...
A letter to my Generation
I am going to hurt someone’s feelings when I say this
But in a field of lilies a thorn tree has sprout.
It has sparked a fire inside me that cannot be contained
So excuse me while I try to put it out.
I unwillingly discern your ways
And I have come to find disappointment.
You’d rather be greeted with the kiss of a harlot
Then be greeted with the anointment.
You call someone your sister
But you deceive her behind her back.
You call someone your brother,
But there is no kin; that my friend you lack.
Who are you to appoint yourself a king,
Acting as the sun when it rains?
When you are as lowly as the clay beneath the earth,
And your words are as lethal as your cocaine.
If I am indeed in the presence of royalty,
Then your forgiveness I must ask.
But I highly doubt I’m wrong,
So permit me to finish this task.
To my sisters, my tears fall rapidly
When I see you attention hungry beasts.
Your work amongst the sheep of the land
Has continued and not yet ceased.
You look at me with fierce eyes,
Hating me without knowing me.
Instead of standing side by side,
You use your sword against me.
And why do you willingly display your temple,
For every man to see?
Why are you the subject of your curves,
Being as deceiving as a raw honeysuckle tree?
You are more than the layer of skin,
That hides the spirit inside of you.
Your worth is more than your garments,
That clings to your frame like glue.
And to the sisters of the church,
You lack a good thing
When you gossip late at night,
Until the Sunday morning church bells ring.
You ask God to bring you a prince,
Someone who will save the day.
Yet you neglect the one true savior,
Who will remain after all men decay.
And my heart yearns for my brothers,
Who are soon destined to rule,
You are naïve in every way
And you treat me like a tool.
You desire to control everything with a skirt,
Wanting to grasp it in your hand,
Yet you cannot control your own children,
You are far from a real man.
Instead of using the mighty one,
As your bread and true consoler,
You decide to guide your train,
With the newest game controller.
You take the lives of the innocent,
Using that fatal gun,
You occupy so many of the jails,
Because when problems come you run.
And to my “Holy” brothers,
The ones who think they have it all locked,
I honestly have no words,
Except be not deceived God is not mocked.
I say all these things,
Not to bash or hate
But I say it as your sister,
Before it is too late.
So I will not sit Idle
Nor will I delay
To spread awareness among you people,
So all I do is pray.
I myself am not perfect,
That I confess I lack.
But there is one that I know of,
Who will always have my back.
My sisters and my brothers, I hope this letter gets to you soon,
Before the next thorn tree begins to bloom.