Shepherds

I'm comfortable with pastors all around me.  It's how I grew up.  It's what I've always known.  I'm comfortable as long as they keep their distance and let me keep mine.  It's okay if they just hang out and talk and argue and discuss and yell with each other during a game of horseshoe.  It's okay if they go play golf all afternoon or make jokes about being vegetarian.  I'm fine with them all wearing polos and short-sleeve button-ups with their pleated pants.  Shirt tucked in.  Average brown belt to keep it all sharp.  It's great that they go to bed early and wake up early.  It's fine that even they get bored during their meetings and start shuffling their feet and clearing their throats.  I don't even mind them saying things that I don't understand or that I find myself not really feeling comfortable with.  Maybe even if that means I disagree with them, even if I don't understand or couldn't give any reasons for my disagreement.  I'm fine with all that.  With these pastors.  It's how I've grown up.

And they're all suckers.

They don't know me and I don't know them.  And we're all happy about it.  Now, if they get too close we have a problem.  If they start getting on my case for anything, with the ruse of caring, of course, then I'm suddenly a shadow behind the wall that's immediately gone up between us.  But don't worry, Pastors, I'm a good kid.  I do what's right.  I do what you expect.  I do what the Bible seems to ask.  Most of the time.

For the rest of the time, I'm in the shadows.  You and your friendly handshakes can keep on being fooled by my wily facade.  And even if you, dear reader, end up being one of those pastors, or one of those people who knows one of those pastors, and you read this, and it leaves you with questions, and you wonder why I'm being so shadowy right here, then just know that those questions will probably never be answered nor the reasons for them completely understood.  Not by yourself, and certainly not ever by me.  And that's the way it goes for now.  I suppose if it changes I'll let you know.  Until then, smile on my dears.


(In case it wasn't obvious, this is a bit satirical or cynical or whatever.  I'm not always happy [refer here], nor do I feel that my joy is complete.  But I'm also not the Judge.  If you, precious reader, really believe what you preach, and if you're genuinely past where I'm at in this walk, then I suppose it's your solemn duty to keep praying for the Me-s in our church.  It is your duty, not to coddle us nor enforce religious practices, but to trust in Him in whom you believe, to let Him care for us, to let us be responsible now for our own steps [for you have done your part] and then demonstrate the spirituality of old so that we may see it from farther away than inside a strangling love embrace, to stop trying to impress us with the church or your ideas or what you "really want for us," to stop arguing with us, to stop feeding our delight in the ease of life.  It is time that we struggle.  Satan has afforded us enough escapes from life to last our lifetime.  In the brief pauses in between these escapes, simply turn your face to the Father.  We only need His reflection to blind our eyes.  Only then will we stop persecuting our own church.  Thank you.  And that's all for tonight.

God bless.)