The Thing It Has Become

Christianity has become

A form of religion

That we look upon

Those who are different

We're quick to condemn

Everyone not in our clique

Shun them because of sin

Yet we gorge til we’re sick

We boast of good tidings

Yet not help others

Can't let go of change 

Unless it’s for a so called brother

Ministers who walk with pride

Preach a doctoral message

The things they hide

Are against their own Epistle

Oh but then out of love

All we have to say "Well we’re not Jesus”

Only He can love that way

In our religion

We have become our own stool pigeons

That we can’t overcome

Really no evidence of the Christ we serve

We worship for chance to be seen and heard

Hold our heads high like we have an unattainable treasure

Filled and puffed with pride, pride that can’t be measured

Known for our hate, the things we spew

Shunning others away

We just sit in a pew

The thing Christianity has become

More than the wonderful grace that was given by God

And has become a thing of dis-grace

~Dale Griggs

Last Night I Had A Dream

Last night I had a dream
I looked up to the sky
And it was melting

My eyes were wide
Couldn't make a sound
A feeling came over like a tide

There was no choice
I couldn't turn away
From the booming voice

He said, "the time will come
When the sky will fall
And all will see the Son

Regardless of the belief
Of any man
All will bend their knees
(And praise the Son of Man)

I will come bursting
Through the clouds
On my white steed

Then my bride
I will command
To be by my side

No man knows
When this will happen
A time my Father has chose

This I will say
The end is near
Getting closer every day

Let the righteous still
Be righteous
And let the wicked
Be wicked still."
-Dale Griggs

In the Heavenlies

In the Heavenlies angels fly
Gabriel delivers his message
Michael the arch angel fights
Christ reaches to His church

In this realm demons exist
They battle against all good
On a throne Satan sits
Til all the world is ruined

A place that’s war torn
Not for a cowardly heart
This place was born
At the very start

In the end the final battle
Shall be fought here
The earth will soon rattle
Saints stand without fear

Writing

Writing is transferring thoughts to paper only to bring them alive to the reader.

War Poem

In Flanders Fields - a poem by Dr. John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Believe

How about you?! Do you believe?!