Author: Mark Spencer


Churches are the Pharisees
Of this generation
They build the walls that stand between
You and your salvation

A church insinuates itself
Into salvationís troth
Baptizing souls into its ranks
To see to its own growth

Its acolytes come to believe
That their church is the one
That leads the lost into the light
Like Godís own holy Son

They lead their flocks far from the light
With arrogant deceit
They claim they are the way to grace
With pretentious conceit

They even say it is Godís will
That they open the gate
A gate that lay within their doors
To save you from your fate

For you need more than Christ you see
To help you in your search
You must be members of their faith
According to the church

Baptism is a holy pact
Between the Lord and you
But churches think this sacred trust
Should be about them too

Yet no one saves but Jesus Christ
Heís all youíll ever need
He took the lashes meant for you
For you He chose to bleed

No other Savior walked that path
Christ is the only one
And none who claim to share His grace
Are servants of the Son

Such entities serve their own needs
Corrupting all they touch
Dependency is what they preach
As they become your crutch

But Godís church is a different sort
It wasnít built by man
It dwells within the human heart
Our Lord formed with His hand

This is the pulpit where God speaks
To those who seek the Word
A Word of truth a way of life
That very few have heard

For most seek God behind a door
Of cedar oak or birch
They are convinced the holy road
Begins within a church

So churches become entities
That loom above us all
With power granted them by God
Through which we rise or fall

At least thatís what the churches say
To those who do not know
That churches seek to build a flock
To help their power grow

So they convince the willing soul
That only on their ark
Will he not be cast from Godís sight
Into the wailing dark

But didnít Jesus warn His flock
That false prophets would rise
And preach deception in His name
As if it were a prize

Be wary of the baying wolf
Who dons the fleece of white
He leads his prey far from the flock
Into the cold dark night

When pride corrupts the righteous man
Heís easily enticed
Heíll follow those who build him up
Even the anti-Christ

But Jesus is the only one
In all of creation
Whoís sacrifice earned Him the right
To offer salvation

And if we let His spirit in
Our earthly walls will fall
Then we will see salvationís light
And hear our Saviorís call

Churches are the Pharisees
Of this generation
They build the walls that stand between
You and your salvation


Comments on this poem/writing:

Wess ( -- Tuesday, October 14 2014, 09:40 am

Brilliant! Love it!

I managed to find a small neighborhood church that doesn't do the kinds of things depicted in your poem. It's the first of its kind in my life, after 20 years of searching! Unfortunately I've attended many that you've described perfectly! Nicely penned!
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