I had said to some pastor that I was having thoughts, and the church turned on me. They went to my mom and said, So sorry about your son.
quote by Jai Rodriguez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salford Parsonage
Lines delivered at housewarming of Salford Parsonage.
Your pastor's fame first got abroad
By his success on Culloden Road ;
He filled the church so that the fold
No longer it the flock would hold.
But soon a larger church did rise,
With fine neat tower points to the skies;
When you o'erwhelmed with ruin dire
Did lose your parsonage by fire.
To his call with generous bounty
You built best parsonage in county,
But some good people in the town
At this idea they might frown.
Unless we made this correction :
The best in a rural section ;
Your pastor he doth vigorous push,
He's not afraid to enter bush.
And 'tis a fact there's very few
With him can stick of timber hew ;
Ready for to superintend,
Or a helping hand to lend.
When bold man's wanted at the front,
You've but to call on Reverend Hunt;
In pulpit he conviction darts,
And points the way to troubled hearts.
But solemn thoughts we won't employ,
As this is all a scene of joy ;
Maids and matrons all charming
Do grace this pleasant house-warming.
Here people come from near and far
To purchase goods at this bazar ;
And all is happiness and glee
At festival of this soiree.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I teach metaphysics and pastor a church.
quote by Della Reese
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pastor's Letter
At twenty eight he had a ministry,
They said for him it was a prophecy.
Fired up, schooled, oh so brilliant,
Preached with an eloquence defiant.
After a year with the same congregation,
He met the lady that caught his attention.
Confused he was at the sudden attraction
But her eyes, they held his heart's condition.
The devil knew just where to strike him,
For he cunningly knows each man's whim.
Love filled the pastor's heart to the brim,
No one will ever know, or so it seems.
The lady, she was a delicate being,
At forty, her appeal like a magnet did bring
Unaware and naive at the hidden suffering
She was causing her young pastor, that poor thing.
One day it happened unexpectedly.
He was training her on some ministry,
Their eyes locked in gazed intimacy,
His hand held her hand affectionately.
The moment was brief, but truly revealing.
Realizing the gravity of their falling,
Both turned away, for fear of the sinning
With tortured hearts that were then deceiving.
Because she was married she stayed away,
But he longed to see her every Sunday.
So a letter she wrote of feelings disarrayed
And told him she loved him but she loved God's ways.
The church, they formed a misconception,
Made up stories out of proportion.
They blamed the lady for the fatal attraction,
Demanded she be on disciplinary action.
Angered, rebuked, the pastor had been.
Unable to deal and face his own sin.
He wrote her husband to save his own skin
And gave vent to revenge that had lurked within.
Although there was no real adultery,
The unknowing husband heard another story.
For the pastor wrote with much animosity
It was a wonder he stayed in the ministry.
Eventual divorce came to the couple,
The censured lady ostracized by the people.
To save the young pastor's ministry call,
He married a girl he did not love at all.
The truth in his heart he tried to hide,
But his wife had felt what really was inside,
A masquerade of marriage, she always cried,
And the pastor knew to his wife he lied.
They constantly fell into much bickering,
And stumbled the church, marred the worshiping,
The young pastor stepped down from ministering,
Lost in the web of his own evil-doing.
The lady, she stood by her principles,
Lay her case before God in heaven's walls,
She forgave her accusers for her imagined fall,
And now vindicated, she stands tall.
-
Written October 5,2008 Tarlac City Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Not True
(carly simon)
You stick to me when I wish you gone
You hammer on my thoughts through dreams
Your plot is thick with saucy schemes
And ways to reach my balconies
But I say Im not turned on by the way you look
I say Im not turned on by the way you act
Im not turned on when you tell me that you need me
But sometimes, just sometimes
You can see the softness in my eyes
And you know, its just not true
Youre in my blood, a holy ghost
I scream, but its a hollow plea
The thoughts I swallow leave me thirsty
You do a very fine imitation of me
And I say Im not turned on by the way you laugh
Im not turned on by the way you smile
Im not turned on when you tell me that you love me
But sometimes, just sometimes
You can see the softness in my eyes
And you know, its just not true
And I say Im not turned on by the way you dance
Im not turned on my the way you laugh
Im not turned on when you need me
But sometimes, just sometimes
You can see the softness in my eyes
And you know, its just not true.
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man of God
To a pastor who sermons
Are filled with passion
Your love for people
Is everlasting
I always come to church knowing
That my love for God
Will ever more be overflowing
Coming to church
Is always the best
I really connect
To the pleasant environment
The atmosphere is one
That no one could ever forget
Many people come to hear you
Who also feel the way that I do
Please always continue
To help us all grow
Closier to a
Having a great heart and joyful spirit
poem by Tameeka Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The earlier practice of the Church had been more or less to employ in worship under the presidency of the pastor or pastors, the gifts of the congregation.
quote by Robert Rainy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Intro
My momma said
"It seemed like yesterday my brother
Said him was gunna leave here
Said he was gunna go and make some money himself"
See my brother wants still to be a rapper
And he can rap real good too
He use to have this book he carried around with him all the time
He use to call it a diary, He use to take it everwhere he went
One day he took it to church when we went to sunday school
And the pastor asked him "Boy, whats that you got in your hand"
And he said this is my diary
And the pastor told him that sinners couldn't have no diary (sinner)
My brother said he was lying, And my brother said if he couldn't have a diary
and he was a sinner, he would just call it a diary of a sinner (diary)
My momma told him don't worry bout what pastor says
My momma told him don't worry bout what nobody says
If that was your diary, that's gunna be your diary
Thats what my mamma said
He said he gonna turn it into an album, And I believe him too
I'm just waiting (One day) one day we gunna turn that radio on ....
[Music fades
song performed by by Petey Pablo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Tiger
When my thoughts are turned within,
There lives a Tiger I obey.
I find my other self… my twin.
Protecting me from mortal sin,
She blossoms like a fresh bouquet.
When my thoughts are turned within.
She waits in silence with a grin
And enemies are easy prey.
I find my other self… my twin.
A part of me that waits therein;
My Tiger keeps my foes at bay.
When my thoughts are turned within.
My Tiger waits beneath my skin
And she has never run astray.
I find my other self… my twin.
My other self, my discipline;
Harm me and she’ll make you pay.
When my thoughts are turned within,
I find my other self… my twin.
Form: Villanelle
poem by Amera Andersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lines on Corner Stone
Impromptu lines delivered at the laying of the corner store
of the church on Culloden road, with Masonic honors.
In this quiet spot, this day of June,
Which will not be forgotten soon,
For when your little church on hill
You overflowingly did fill,
You then resolved there should arise
Church worthy of your enterprise.
You've laid foundation broad and deep,
And showers of blessing may you reap.
Craft of King Hiram and St. John
Have come to lay the corner stone,
At the call of our Grand Master, *
Who, was invited by your pastor.
With Silver trowel all so fair
He laid foundation on the square.
May you be blessed with christian love,
And we all meet in Lodge above.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The president of the branch in Atlanta was a pastor of a church, the Reverend Sam Williams, a wonderful guy. He was middle-class and fairly militant for the time and place.
quote by Julian Bond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Performance
A courtesy call,
And of the acts of your performance;
But, profaneness has now gone out into the whole world!
And like an attempt by a pastor to rape a member of his church;
But, let the international awareness of man's mistakes be known,
And let us all be ready to change for the better.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I pastor a very large church in western Australia. We have about - over 2,000 people, which we have a Bible school, community services, a lot of things linked with it. So my life's very full today. Not enough days in the week.
quote by Margaret Smith Court
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Murder in Chatham
St. Patrick’s Church was sparsely filled
For Friday morning mass
The seniors getting restless-
the clock read a quarter past.
It wasn’t like the pastor
to leave them waiting there.
Father Hinds was not the kind
to miss the call to prayer.
The usher and the janitor
Together went next door
They both recoiled in horror
at the blood upon the Floor.
The police came with the coroner
To the Parrish rectory door
And saw Jose the Janitor
Try CPR once more.
Chatham is a quiet town
A place when families thrive
And father was the Sheppard
to guide them through their lives.
It didn’t take police much time
to find who did the deed
as Jose’s cell phone records
had placed him at the scene.
The murder knife recovered
The crime confessed at last
The priest had caught him in a lie
about crimes in his past.
The people came together
And filled St. Patrick’s seats
To send the Father to his rest
And give their hearts some peace.
A narrative poem about the murder of Father Ed Hinds, Pastor of St. Patrick's church in Chatham on Thursday 10/21/2009
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Have Steeples. Some Don't
What do I think of church?
'Yes! '
Church?
Like in 'church' church?
'Yes! '
Well...
Some have steeples.
Some don't.
Some have people.
Some wont.
Some are religiously political.
And some are politically religious.
My vehicle is my church.
And that's all I care about.
'Oh?
So your 'car' is your church? '
Oh.
No no!
My 'body' is my church.
It is my sanctuary.
Now...
Keep in mind,
I am not devoted to keep it as pure,
As it should be.
But I do the best I can,
Not to be led away by temptation.
But everyday I pray to be forgiven,
Of those 'sins' I know I should not enjoy!
However...
You can find me anytime,
Self righteously defending...
My point of view.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The quality of the Lord's church on earth, cannot be seen by any man, so long as he lives in the world, still less how the church in process of time has turned aside from good to evil.
quote by Emanuel Swedenborg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Naked Pastor
Naked Pastor!
You were caught without clothes on;
Because you raped a member of your church,
And they found a Bible closer to you.
Breezy and sunny!
Coastal planes and coastal sand beaches;
But you were caught without clothes on!
Because you raped a member of your church,
And they found a Bible closer to you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ivisible Battlefield
Invisible Battlefield
There's a war that rages daily With many a battle fought And it seems that no one really Understands the foe named 'thought'...
Pastor..
He seems so small and passive Sometimes he's good and kind But his evil can be massive As war wages in our mind..
Throughout Faith in Action
It's an invisible battlefield No allies at our side As the foe its power wields We cannot run and hide...
But we have a Great Captain in our Pastor And He alone can see Each battle and each out-come Defeat or victory..
Throughout Faith in Action
It's an invisiblebattlefield But we have God's true Word We have faith's invisibleshield We have the Spirit's sword..
Throughout Faith in Action..
The demons, darkness, evil forces Strive to take control But they cannot alter courses With the One who saves our soul..
Throughout Faith in Action..
It's an invisiblebattlefield No one to cheer with glee As evil thoughts and armiesyield To inner victories..
Throughout Faith in Action..
For many a tear-stained battle Upon these plains are fought With many a plea and many a prayer Prayed for this foe named 'thought'..
Throughout Faith in Action..
Someday beyond these borders This battle will bedone As God our foot-steps orders We'll fight them one by one
Trust our Pastor..
With Him, the foe we'll conquer He is a faithful shield For He is Lord and Master Of our invisiblebattlefield...
RK. Hudson
poem by Ron Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ultima Thule: Old St. David's At Radnor
What an image of peace and rest
Is this little church among its graves!
All is so quiet; the troubled breast,
The wounded spirit, the heart oppressed,
Here may find the repose it craves.
See, how the ivy climbs and expands
Over this humble hermitage,
And seems to caress with its little hands
The rough, gray stones, as a child that stands
Caressing the wrinkled cheeks of age!
You cross the threshold; and dim and small
Is the space that serves for the Shepherd's Fold;
The narrow aisle, the bare, white wall,
The pews, and the pulpit quaint and tall,
Whisper and say: 'Alas! we are old.'
Herbert's chapel at Bemerton
Hardly more spacious is than this;
But poet and pastor, blent in one,
Clothed with a splendor, as of the sun,
That lowly and holy edifice.
It is not the wall of stone without
That makes the building small or great,
But the soul's light shining round about,
And the faith that overcometh doubt,
And the love that stronger is than hate.
Were I a pilgrim in search of peace,
Were I a pastor of Holy Church,
More than a Bishop's diocese
Should I prize this place of rest and release
From further longing and further search.
Here would I stay, and let the world
With its distant thunder roar and roll;
Storms do not rend the sail that is furled;
Nor like a dead leaf, tossed and whirled
In an eddy of wind, is the anchored soul.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old St David's at Radnor
What an image of peace and rest
Is this little church among its graves!
All is so quiet; the troubled breast,
The wounded spirit, the heart oppressed,
Here may find the repose it craves.
See, how the ivy climbs and expands
Over this humble hermitage,
And seems to caress with its little hands
The rough, gray stones, as a child that stands
Caressing the wrinkled cheeks of age!
You cross the threshold; and dim and small
Is the space that serves for the Shepherd's Fold;
The narrow aisle, the bare, white wall,
The pews, and the pulpit quaint and tall,
Whisper and say: "Alas! we are old."
Herbert's chapel at Bemerton
Hardly more spacious is than this;
But Poet and Pastor, blent in one,
Clothed with a splendor, as of the sun,
That lowly and holy edifice.
It is not the wall of stone without
That makes the building small or great
But the soul's light shining round about,
And the faith that overcometh doubt,
And the love that stronger is than hate.
Were I a pilgrim in search of peace,
Were I a pastor of Holy Church,
More than a Bishop's diocese
Should I prize this place of rest, and release
From farther longing and farther search.
Here would I stay, and let the world
With its distant thunder roar and roll;
Storms do not rend the sail that is furled;
Nor like a dead leaf, tossed and whirled
In an eddy of wind, is the anchored soul.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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