I'll Speak Anyway

Fellow writer and thinker Mark Groleau wrote a terrific article this past week on loving without an agenda or a watch, called Blackberry Jesus. This Spoken Verse is a tribute to the first anecdote of his article, Christians who leave pamphlets indicating they want to get to know you, who want to help, and what happens when you realize that they're lying. What they really want, is to expound on their agenda...

(This is Spoken Verse, intended to be read in the same manner as The Woman at the Well video on the side of my blog)

I'll Speak Anyway

I know you can't hear me but I have to tell this story. I'll speak loudly if not surely, and if you still hate me don't worry...

I'll speak anyway.

A while ago some neighbours moved in, they left a pamphlet in my mailbox about helping and doing what they could what they can,
they made an impression so I called but I wasn't impressive to them,
I was less than they had thought.
I wasn't enough, my habits weren't right and my beliefs needed correction
So they didn't want to help unless they could change me, but what I needed was connection
I realized then that they were looking for a sale. A garage sale or flea market or boxing day special with no returns, or reviews or information
The topic was important my salvation or so they said,
I gave them my book, but they never read ...or discussed or conversed
or hoped or loved, well if it was love it was perverse
And by perverse I don't mean sexual, I mean twisted warped bitter they had an end in mind, that's my end not theirs, they didn't even know that I was there
So what began so hopefully is just another day in the market. I'm a customer, consumer, shopper, a patron. If Wal-Mart calls with a Jesus sale I may listen, they know I'm their target.
My friends tell me I'm crazy to even think like this, think like what?
like there's hope, like the world isn't an abyss.
But it is, or so I say, and I say it with a sneer, it's not cool to hope too long for anything but bliss, that's anywhere but here.

I'll speak anyway.

The truth is I don't trust you anymore, You sell Jesus like He's made you better somehow, you belong to this club and now Jesus loves you more because you're in and I'm out
but why does that matter if I don't want in, if I don't think your product is right or the price is wrong or is it just wrong to have a price
The pamphlet looks thoughtful. It makes your shadow seem gentle, like your reflection is truer than you, truer how, truer as if now you can say that you offered
but if I called you late or called you wrong, if I wouldn't sing your song than what? Can I get through to you or am I through to you, now that you know I don't want you. I may need you, that's true, but you're not ready to give me you. And until you do, I'm not interested.

I'll speak anyway.

So keep your pamphlet. Keep your nice words and phony phrases, I know why you called. Called me yes you did though you didn't listen or read what I read.
So I know about you, but you're a fake you see. At least to me that's what it is when you sell Jesus on the corner like you're handing out fizz.
One last time please listen, I'll tell you who I am. I'm your neighbour. I'm not rich I'm not white I'm not black I'm not thin. I wait at the bus stop every morning for my ride to work. You've seen me there when you drive past, or didn't you know, you're in a hurry, you have to get ahead to be first, don't worry I'll be last. I've made some choices I regret,
not the choosing because without choice it isn't really me, is it? And yet,
I know there's something more... much more I believe it, no matter how many sales I find I hope you meet me there and if you're still not listening

I'll speak anyway.