Whiskey Preacher
Many years ago when I was in seminary I was asked to submit an assignment – creating a collection of my writings chronicling my faith journey over the years. With strong encouragement from my community, the Journal Of A Postmodern Prophet was created. I will warn you in advance that some of the language is still somewhat evangelical in places, since some of these writings were pulled from a span of writings I did between the ages of 18 – 25…so please have some grace with me. Even though my own seminary, Truett Seminary at Baylor University where I graduated from and from which this project was birthed, will not have much to do with me theses days; however, I am thankful for my time there and for pushing me to become whom I am today…The Whiskey Preacher!
A Broken Day
Today will be such a good day
No worries to come
It all seems like an illusion
Commitment People have made
They all seem to fade a way
One minute you’re told you’re loved
The next minute you’re nothing
Trying to find acceptance in sex and drugs
It seems so temporary but so fun
Sleeping in doorways is the price you pay
Searching for something to believe in
Searching for something to believe in you
You come up empty every time
You won’t cry, you build a wall
A wall with a locked door
A wall that stands strong around your heart
Knock, Knock, not one gets in
Though this time the knock seems so different
But, scared that if that door opens again
Wounded and scarred so many times
Do you even dare to take a peak?
Will it be someone who cares?
Or will it be just another
Another what?
Broken Day.
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