Back-Row God

Am I a backrow God to you

Half – interested and not paying attention

Counting the minutes

Waiting until it’s over

Thinking about what’s for lunch?

Do you think I’m a backslider

Looking for the most appropriate time to escape

Inching closer to the exit every minute?

Do you think I’m an usher

Observing in disapproval

Pointing people in a random direction

Hoping to be alone again?

Am I a backrow God to you

Something is going on, but you’re afraid to turn your head? 

Am I a back of the room God to you

An advertisement for a good time

A donation box and a flyer to join the club?

Am I a back row God to you

A row you would never sit at

With people you’d never talk to?

Am I a museum God to you

An exhibit of past times

A history of signs and wonders

Something from back then?

Am I a library God to you 

A limited number of resources

Wait times for the most popular teachings? 

Do you think I’m a librarian

Stingy with the materials

Only available a few hours a day?

Am I a museum God to you

Membership only admission

Exclusive access

No entry without a fee? 

Am I a museum God to you

Away from all the crime

On a property with a nicely mowed lawn? 

Am I a museum God to you

Put on display, but cannot touch

Can look with your eyes, but can’t take a picture?

Am I a real God to you

One who loves

Who gave his son to die for you

Who withholds his anger

And gives mercy instead

Who adopts you as his own

Calls you a son and a friend

Embraces you and clothes with a prized robe

Kills the fattened calf to celebrate you?

Am I a real God to you

One who still speaks today

Who still turns water into wine

And feeds the five thousand 

Who dines with sinners and tax collectors?

Am I a real God to you

One who calls you by name

Who invites you to commune with him

Brings you down from the tree

And goes into your home?

AM I A REAL GOD TO YOU?