Evolution of an evangelical

[Anonymous]

I was working on this poem but I got stuck

Here is my train of thought. Most evangelicals go through this cycle. Or at least I have. Of needing help. Getting help. Being told to help others only to begin to identify with those they are helping. This either scared away back into a holy huddle or set free to continue to identify without compulsion and journey together with those they once want to save or change. Anyway. Here is the poem. Evolution of an Evangelical:
I am bad
I need help
I am helped
I must help others
I must not be like others
I identify with others
I am afraid of others
I ..

• This topic was modified 2 years ago by  David Hayward.
• This topic was modified 1 year, 11 months ago by  David Hayward.

[katiepearlParticipant]

Yes – I remember being in a church rather like that holy huddle – where it was important to conform to the evangelical sub-culture – which was really middle-class English home counties culture.  Though they were an enormously loving and supportive church, which was what I needed during the 2 1/2 years I was with them (until we moved to another area).

[starfielderParticipant]

I Once was Found – Padraig O Tuama

I once was blind but now I can see

I once was him but now I’m me

I once was cold but now I’m not

I used to fear hell where the fire is hot

I wanted to be straight

But the thing is I’m queer

I thought I belonged there

But I belong here

I once was wrong because I thought I was right

I thought that the darkness was the same as the night

And I thought that the light was consoling and beautiful

All it asked was to be pure, be right and be dutiful

But light can be insipid and daytime can be vacuous

And no cult is so crud as the cult of the miraculous

I thought that walking on the water would be the end of it all

And addiction to articulation was the start of my fall

I fell into meaningless and I fell into sin

I fell into darkness and I felt caged in

And I fell into the arms of something that was lurking in the corners, in the shadows

It’s been slowly converting my methods and madness

into myth and new meaning

My sagas and sadness given girth and given grieving

And now I believe in the God of the human

the good and the generous , the glorious and grooving

I once was blind, now I’m blinder still

And inside my own night time I am silent

I am still

 

[David HaywardKeymaster]

I like the poem kmillard.

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