Facing my accusers–
Static pictures giving the half-illusion
that I have a chance of knowing them by their words,
interpreting tone, syntax, intention aright.
I am, it seems by implication, at least partly in league with Lucifer,
the “bright one” who,
I am told,
challenged God with a faction,
and deceived humankind in the Garden.
Funny: I haven’t demonized them (yet, much).
Funny: How disagreement about sex
goes straight to “having itching ears”
and spiritual warfare.
Wild bulls of Bashan surround me?
They may gore me?
Facing my accusers,
all I can do is sing,
“My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
but wholly lean on Jesus’ Name.
On Christ the Solid Rock I stand;
all other ground is sinking sand,
all other ground is sinking sand.”
I wonder if they will stop circling.
I wonder if they will believe me,
or if our collective cognitive distortions will throw up,
“This people honours me with their lips…”
“Having a form of godliness, they deny the power thereof.”
But, strange thing
I wonder if it matters,
facing my accusers.