Sunday, February 5, 2012

Sunday Poem: Thy Kingdom Come

How many of us mean it
when we say to God
"Thy kingdom come?"
We whisper the words on
Sunday morning, sitting
in an air-conditioned building,
not the least bit prepared
for a world turned upside down,
a world where the first
are last and the last
come first, because most of us
are first. Admit it;
the people who actually long
for the kind of ruler Jesus
once proved to be
are living and sleeping on
the street, regulars at the
Salvation Army, sometimes stealing
to survive. The people Jesus
made time for are the people
on American welfare and the people
praying, "Thy kingdom come"
are those complaining about being forced
to care, because they'd rather choose
to give on their own, right?
Would you give on your own?
Would you truly take care of the poor
if no one forced
your hand?
No. Those of us repeating stoically,
"Thy kingdom come"
are individual-minded, consumer-driven, capitalists
with no real desire to see
anyone's kingdom come
except perhaps
our own.

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