Every Sunday Morning,
We wake up to the sound of the crowing cockerel,
Or the alarms of our mobile phones,
Or maybe a dream;
Bad or good.
We clean up our faces,
Get up and get ready to start the day.
Some acknowledge their creator,
Others don't.
We have our baths and scream at the top of our voices at our neighbours;
Not putting into consideration what day it is
We then put on our Sunday best;
And greet the good mornings,
And set out for church.
On the way to church,
Some try to spiritually compose themselves,
Others, majority this time;
Laugh, chat and smile,
Forgetting that they approach a holy place.
On getting there they cover it all up.
And put up their holiest of faces.
But we can see beneath all that.
Every Sunday Morning,
We see different kinds of hands raised above heads.
Different voices singing loud songs of praise.
But its basically a facade.
Deep down, hearts are broken,
Lives have been shattered,
It seems to be going well for a few;
But a very, very little few.
The sermon starts and the preacher talks about God's love.
Some doze off and pretend to be saying amen anytime an usher taps them.
Some bring out their androids and continue the chatting from where they left off on the way.
Some chew gum and don't listen.
Some with much enthusiasm and keenness do,
And a greater number listen and believe;
But forget even the topic immediately they leave the church premises.
Prayer sessions have even lost their spirituality.
Some open their eyes so they can see that person blasting in tongues and possessed by an evil spirit-
-The horror.
So it's offering time and many dance to the front to pay their "Christianity-Imposed Dues"
Only a few dance with joy, thanksgiving and prayer on their lips.
During announcements, they go back to their previous ways and gossip about the announcer or announcement.
And "The Grace" is shared with open eyes and faithless hearts,
Because the once very spiritual prayer is now a cliche.
Now church has closed and the selfies begin.
Well selfies, compliments, greetings, meetings and exhortations.
The meetings have no value to some;
Well except those who have been given the office of chastity.
Once an office to strengthen, encourage, lead and guide men.
Those with big cars sometimes offer rides and lifts so as to brag.
Others more proud don't even look at the members faces even if they asked.
'I would rather say plead'
The way back home is just the same;
Cursing and insulting other drivers that have wronged them or they have wronged.
We get back home and speak with great joy to our neighbours about how good the service was.
When we take off our clothes, its like its something else;
Like the Sunday clothes were worn to tame the devils within;
We're back to who we really are-
-Loud, noisy, inconsiderate and non-reflecting.
With the Sunday morning sermons having no effect in our lives.
So to what purpose?
And of what use?
Is Every Sunday Morning?
Because Every Sunday Morning,
Has become like trites and platitudes in the eyes of men.
Its spirituality has lost its value,
We have lost a day we presume to keep holy,
Everyday we have different views about the church...are we in the right track?
But I can see you,
And I believe you are different,
I believe that you will not deviate from the teachings of the Holy book,
Always smile and keep today and every sunday holy.
So what are you doing with your next every Sunday Morning?
