THERE IS NO HURT LIKE CHURCH HURT
There is no hurt like church hurt, battered and marred with scars that penetrate my soul.Tears keep flowing, yet I keep going. Searching for that inner peace, so that my pain will cease. Mutilated as they gaze in my face. Favoritism and Imperialism reign in this house of pain. I sought healing, yet my wounds festered. I don’t know how much my soul can take. I’m at my point of breaking. I fast, I pray and weep at my master’s feet. He gathers me in his arms and tells me no need to be alarm, I shall shield you from all harm. I am making, molding and holding you. Gold must be scorched to be tried. Burned to rid every trace of pride. Soldiers are made and not born. Through all of this I will never leave you alone. Just keep going you are almost home. Gird yourself with infallible truths, for they will sustain you. Bind my words around thy feet and they shall keep thy soul from fainting and getting weak. On your head I place the helmet of salvation that shall protect you in the days of desolation. Last but not least take up the shield of faith that shall guarantee your victory, when added to your impenetrable armor in the heat of battle against that evil dragon and his army.