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Searching for the Perfect Church - A Christian Poem
Searching for the perfect church, I drove thru town and around,
To seek and find a pristine church of perfect sight and sound.
My journey's been quite difficult you see, as well as oh-so long,
For I'll not settle for second best, for that would be quite wrong.
The brand new church outside the city, embedded in the dust,
Was filled with nothing but sinners, for my money they did lust.
Around the corner of my manor, to the church on Sunday I did veer,
But soon my happiness turned sour when they asked for volunteers.
Last month I stumbled onto a stunning church close to what I sought,
But the congregation of old bachelors labeled that idea for naught.
The little church nestled inside the woods, was just a bit too quaint,
Too small, too old and too confined for me, God's beloved saint.
Then I found the massive church that sits upon the hill,
Quite nice inside with cushioned pews that gave my soul a thrill.
But as quickly as I settled in, I abruptly had to take leave,
For a bawling child behind me, made my stomach heave.
I'll forego the church that resides in a meadow, for it is but a hull,
And the minister and his followers were nothing short of dull.
The church within the big city, though nice was smaller than a mouse,
How can something so small in magnitude, be called God's house?
The church I visited last Sunday morning, when the sun was bright,
As it bled through stained glass windows, playing with the light;
Although I enjoyed the light effect - so lovely, but all was not perfect,
For soon I determined the minister was lacking sufficient intellect.
So the following Sunday, I woke up early and drove a little bit further,
To my childhood church that I had attended with my dear sweet mother.
But it had changed from gold to glitter, the carpet stained and old,
The same minister, the same sermon, the same sheep in the fold.
The experience left me shaking, for I did not want to think of age,
For age is ugly and for me, an updated church is all the rage.
So wiser now, I hit the road in search of that church divine,
I never thought that finding such would take so much time.
Just where, oh where can I find that perfect church of mine,
Which mirrors my educated taste, and is equally divine?
For now I've visited every church listed in the phone book,
And I've been quite patient, due to all the time this took.
Where are my stained glass windows, the pews of solid wood,
The silver communion cups, a congregation that I find good?
And where is my minister that supports a sliver tongue I ask,
For searching appears quite useless, and I'm tired of this task.
So I sit in my plush car, behind my wheel all nestled into the leather,
I'll not give up until I find the church, of my important rathers.
For I'll set out early come Sunday morning, my spirit resolute and pure,
To seek and find my perfect church, I'll find it one day - of that I'm sure.
Poem by Sharen Taylor Griffin, Copyrighted, all rights reserved
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