Boxes

Boxes  safe, 
Contained and small,
There you’re no challenge.
I understand it all.
And I’ve got you sorted, 
Summed up well,
In my pithy phrases,
Because we can tell 
That a God like you
Must prefer our prayers,
Our types of songs,
Our style over theirs.
And you live in my boxes
In the things I know, 
In “Quiet Times” 
And “accountability” 
And if it’s all for show,
Would it matter? 
At least the world will see
That we’ve got God in our boxes,
You belong only to me.

And let’s ignore the nagging thought
That we may not have caught
The entire God of heaven 
In our boxes, but a sort
Of a tamer beast,
A lion on a leash,
A god who speaks my language
And looks strangely like me.
If we could step outside the cages,
Glance back through the ages,
Would we find a God who’s bigger
Than our contemporary sages?
Than our evangelical preachers 
And our sermon formulae,
A God who’s far more real
Than the one who looks like me?
But for now we’ll keep our boxes,
We know the God inside,
And should we find him too uncomfortable,
He’s easy to hide,
We can just display the boxes,
 Stick to what we know.
Add a few more songs in,
And if it’s all for show,
Does it really matter? 
At least the world will see
That we’ve got God in our boxes,
You belong only to me.

(June 2012)

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About Claire

@claireylegs Keen on Jesus. Keen on justice. Ministry assistant in the Great North East. Blogger. Find me in: coffee shop / church / pub / bed.
This entry was posted in Evangelicalism, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Boxes

  1. Pingback: Our God is greater [than yours, ha!] | The Art of Uncertainty

  2. alianoree says:

    I love this. Good work kiddo.

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