FIRST THINGS FIRST
Written by Holly K. Ferguson
Copyright © 2008
We’re living in the last days,
When it’s hard to see your way.
The light to guide the path is hid.
What happened to the city on the hill?
A light I cannot see is good for nothing,
Except be cast out,
Trodden under the foot of men.
I am just pressing toward the mark,
Trying to make my way toward Him.
Suffering from broken relationships,
Created through drug use and fornication.
I wish I could get off this ship of,
Ups and downs.
I’m in a sickening state right now.
Destruction is all around.
How much longer must I be bound,
In a world of sin,
Where evil never wins?
I’ve been in it for so long.
Will I be forgiven for the wrongs I have done?
I want to turn it over to God,
But finding the church is hard,
In a maze of religion,
And denominational confusion.
There appears to be a divide,
Between multiple doctrines.
Every church seems to have its own tradition.
This is the work of the enemy,
So that sinners like me,
Won’t get saved,
And stay a slave,
In a world God promised to burn,
In the last days.
Armageddon is near.
The look upon the blood moon I fear.
I just need a true vessel,
To explain to me why I was born,
What it really means,
To be considered,
A child of God.
I want to live beyond the grave,
In an eternal life beyond these days,
For which the life of Christ did pay.
Am I asking too much,
To want to see unity within the body?
That brings the WORD to the community,
Like Jesus did when He walked the streets,
Having revival and holy convocation,
Without charging outrageous fees,
Cutting out the celebrity traditions,
That have no restoration or deliverance.
Where are the spiritual houses,
Of living stones?
You know, the ones that God called,
A holy priesthood.
A chosen generation,
That offers up the spiritual sacrifices.
You know, the church that Christ left in charge,
To equip the saints, teach, and prophesy.
Not the watered down message,
But the living, true Word of God,
Which delivers souls,
Set captives free,
That release the unheard mysteries.
That are not filled with fables,
Genealogies, and untruths,
Scientific foolishness that has nothing to do,
With the creations of God,
The hairs on my head,
The stars in the sky,
Or life after death.
But, the working of miracles,
And laying on of hands,
Loving one another,
Until the time Jesus returns,
Preparing for eternal life,
Just as God intended.
I am tired of being condemned for my past,
I just want to be loved into the family of God,
Feeling like I belong,
Rather than treated like an outcast.
Where I can have a second chance at life,
Just like you,
Having a purpose for living, too.
And be delivered from my wicked ways,
Pass these burdens on to someone else,
Before my grave,
Like Jesus Christ,
Who can carry this weight.
But, first things first,
I need to know where is the church?