Should have never let you know where I live
because I know your culture of resiliency,
how you never stop searching for prodigal sheep.

You roll around in your white shirts and ties
dropping by from time to time to gauge my spirit,
maybe today’s the day I’m inspired to come home.

Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and
the question you so love to ask.
I have, but I’m not convinced He ever accepted me.

Thing is, I know you aren’t bad people.
Good intentions guide your hearts
and there’s nothing wrong with sharing truth as you know it

but my brief time dwelling with your fold
was marred by similarly motivated individuals who never stopped
to check on me in my culture shock.

Pushed to conversion, full immersion, marriage too early
while family and friend disowned and deserted me,
you never asked me how I was holding together.

I wasn’t, weak to your good things gone rotten,
predictable endings fell into place, division, divorce,
another family lost and my life and emotions in pieces.

This story is why I could never go back.
Years later the wounds are still healing
and I’m not confident I’ve found them all.

Then you come around saying Jesus, your Jesus, can heal them.
I’ll listen because I know it’s your spiritual duty, but know this.

Spiritual duty is no substitute for a human connection.