Sacred sanctity and chastity, sanctimonious, so harmonious, consecration
To the divine deification of unspotted truth and righteousness.
You must be holy, pure, and sinless, for the Lord our God can’t stand us!
So odious to my olfaction like a pedophile’s perverted actions,
This televangelistic style, guile, and hickly, hyped up hairdos
That have nothing to do with what they communicate to you about being holy.
It’s a kitschly, glib ball of brilliance and flash, shallow and annoying like a rash,
Should be thrown out with the trash,
Cause I want something that’s real!
If that’s the deal, then I’ll throw it to the floor,
Gore it’s dead body,
Spit my fat juicy lugi in its face, and walk out the door,
Never to serve the Lord.
That’s not who I have adored,
And I’m sorry that His name has been cursed, trampled, and profaned as a result.
A woman, despised, huddled in terror, surrounded by ravenous eyes,
Ready to kill for the thrill of sin’s punishment.
She closed her sight to impending judgment,
Expecting sharp stones, shattered bones, bludgeoned groans of gravelly death,
But she felt holy breath on the back of her neck.
Where are your accusers, child?
He smiled, and everything twisted and defiled
Drowned in the stones on the ground
As Holy and woman were reconciled.
His eyes blaze like a furnace in their brightness!
He is God.
All powerful, all authority, hating evil,
Loving you,
Despised,
Rejected by religion,
Surrounded by the fires of hell-fire damnation,
Eternal torment for sinners, idolaters, fornicators!
Feel that same cool breath chilled the back of your neck.
Where are your accusers, child?
A cross of everything twisted and defiled was planted in the stones on the ground,
His body was hoisted, pounded, pierced, bludgeoned, tortured, forsaken,
Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabacthani!
Cried the holy Son,
And His blood drowned the sin cast on the stones at the foot of the cross,
Poured out for our loss.
This great cost of purchase for your right to be holy.
Claim it!
Embrace the Voice piercing through the surrounding crowds of fear.
He is near to you.
He has run here for you.
His arms are waiting for Holy and you to be reconciled.
