Missionary to the Christians

How does it feel to live in a universe that small,

In a place only you understand?

How do you get through the boredom

Of totally lacking mystery or surprise,

Or does the terror of them both counteract that?

I suspect the latter is true.

I suspect trying to hold things together

Produces so much strain the weight of it all

Must be crushing.

Wouldn’t it be easier to let the reins go,

To let thing expand out to their infinite possibilities

Where the God you claim to believe in

Is the only one in control of anything?

Wouldn’t it be nice to stop trying to measure up

To something you cannot measure up too,

Where your assurance really does come from Him,

And you agree with Paul, mind, body, and soul,

All the things you do to prove your worth,

All the thing you claim to know without doubt,

Are a slap in your God’s face

And a rejection of his work on the cross.

So just stop and relax an bathe in the mystery

In a God that accepts you, 
And everybody else,
Just the way you are.