This is a poem reminding the church of its original purpose

Home for the rich, fraternity of the famous. The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. Den in which witchcraft resides, the wizardry of the soul. The shepherd feeds on the on the flock, rather than the honey from the rock. The sheep have become a pack of wolves. Doves have become vultures.

A safe haven now leads to Hades itself. The congregation of the people of the Most High, why have you forgotten so quickly that Christ was your first teacher? Injustice and prejudice now rules your courts. The bitter truth that heals no longer lies in your lips, bit the lies which kills and destroys the soul is what you preach. Adultery now reigns instead of monastery. Prophets have become trumpets of prostitution, and money alone. Gratifying their tunnelled stomachs.

Where are the ancient Elijah’s who lighted the evening sacrifice from heaven above, the Moses that turned water into blood, the Spirit filled Peter, who uncovered the deceit of Ananias and Sapphira. Walls of righteousness, bring on the Apostle Pauls, whose mantles and handkerchiefs healed the sick and raised. Bring on the Apostle Peters who spoke the word of God boldly after being defeated by a girl, and the Spirit fell on over three thousand people.

Where are the Timothys that teach with courage and fierceness the word of the Lord.
The tithes of the poor have only become food for the rich. Pastors ride on the livelihood of the congregation in the form of private jets, in a game of monopoly. The flock cry day and night. They bleat for lack of water and straw. Their skins have shrieked, their wools fall off, not of old age, but of demurrage treasuries. Suits of the clergy are starched and haunched. Hats are gaily coloured and stilettoes knock the tiles in staccato, and yet the soles of our feet burn in asphalted streets with our raggedness.

Thou light fingered institution, why have you forgotten Christ, your first teacher, your husband. He adorned you with humility and love. He robed you in magnanimity and dignity, but you have hidden iniquity and ambiguity under your apparel. Learn from your early masters. They saw to it that the people were not poor. The early citadel of hope. Holy intermediary for the poor from the rich, where is your course? Why has your ship changed sail? It’s high time we take the staff.

The rod of the true shepherd who gave Himself selflessly for us all. Teach us to pray till tongues of fire rests on our heads. Compel us by the Spirit to honour our fathers and mothers. Train us to be honest rulers of the nation, and never fear going bankrupt for telling the truth. Your substance is divine. Remember, that the one who clothes the lilies is still there on the throne.
Let the indecently dressed feel the heat of the Spirit. Let the fraudulent and the wayward be dealt with like Achan, for his cohorts to see and learn. Let the rich be a shade their poor fellows. Let true Joshuas, Davids and Hezekiahs rule the nation. Let the era of our pot bellied politicians cease. Let the church purge itself and take the charge. Civilisation and Technology have driven us away from God. iPhones and Androids have become our idols. Our fellowship and worship in spirit and in truth no longer holds in the temples, but on Facebook and WhatsApp. Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God Almighty, early in the morning our broadcasts in lieu of songs shall rise to thee has taken over the day. Arise fallen Jerusalem walls. Arise! The city of holiness that resides in our soul. Enough of your recession. We need fresh fire. The fresh fire of revival.

Let the kingdom of God fall on us. Let the slate be wiped clean. Let the ancient era begin.