When Pastors Abuse their Power

Much of my Christian faith 
Has been nourished and shaped, 
Through the testimony and experience of others

They aren’t my foundation
Christ alone is my anchor
But their words, reflections and actions 
All echo from the past
They bear witness to an ancient faith
Global and near
Reminding me that every saint is a humble sinner 
And within each sinner, a hidden saint

I’m surrounded by many loved ones 
Who’ve left the Christian faith 
Often holding tight shared values
They practice love of neighbor, self-sacrifice 
Yet no longer accept the words 
They once believed necessary
To sustain their life

But my life is also full of some
Who claim the name of Christ
Yet anger, fear, and judgment
Somehow distorted the Christian way
People reduced to projects,
A life of sacrifice exchanged 
For propping up a platform,
Political agendas and national worship 
Pursued no matter the cost 
Resulting in those who don’t follow Christ
Profane the name of God

As years go by mentors, friends, 
Former pastors
Continue to have their life exposed
What’s discovered is of deep concern, 
At times much worse
These men of words and wisdom
Spoke of encounters with God that sunk deep into my heart
Experiences were shared in such a way 
They became owned by those who followed

Some days it becomes hard to trust 
That these powerful and holy words
Were not just made up to pursue selfish gain
Perhaps the need for admiration  
Perpetuated what was only smoke and mirror 
Could the explanation be so simple?
Lies retold until they sounded true
Maybe false encounters with God projected 
To make their captive audience subdued
Or could it also be these true encounters somehow
Were never muted by the violence of their deeds?
Some days it’s hard to see through the haze 
Created by lifetimes of deception

And yet, there is the woman who bled 12 years 
Then fiercely pushed her way through that crowd 
The lonely Samaritan who was greeted by a thirsty rabbi 
Then sent to tell the suspicious village 
Of the one who had come to save
The prostitute, face bent low in shame
Who courageously snuck into the party
Washed his feet with tears
The street child straining to catch a glimpse
Who caught his eye and saw delight
As Jesus scooped him on his lap
The scorned and despised, 
First seen by Christ
The proud and sufficient 
Invited to also follow 
Join the humble in sitting at his feet
Their witness joins the chorus 
Of countless friends who still believe
Friends whose words and songs 
Through shame and pain
Remind me that this faith is right where I belong

And then there is the quiet voice 
Whispering to me
Inviting me to look 
At my open wounds and tired scars
To be honest about desires, pain, 
Hopes, and longings
And release control of the image
I’m tempted to project
With honesty remember the dark shadows 
That lurk beneath my surface 
Remembering my savior, 
With love filled eyes
Gazing deep within

Surrounded by these contradictions, 
There is my true North Star-
Jesus, my closest friend
Whose words have grasped me
Kept me near 
Delivered me from
Sorrow and rejection 
Called me out of darkness 
Wrapped me in the warmth of his loving light
And there it is with him, only him,
That my heart is at rest and safe within