All I want

Oh Church
I don’t want your marketing
Your flyers, photos and statements
Your slick design packages and logos
I want raw, jagged edges
Ugly tears and desperate sobs
Shuddering shoulders and tensing muscles
Gritted teeth and screwed up grimaces.

Oh Church
I don’t want your corporate colours
Your famous role models
Your easy, three-point sermons
And chortling middle class anecdotes.
I want your righteous anger
Your deepest longings
Your daily struggles
Your secret weaknesses.

I want
to know
what gives
you hope.


I want
to see
that you care
about me.

I want you to be

my family.