Heavy

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If showed up on Sunday morning would I still be able to feel your presence?

If I sat in the front pew would the ministers words still cut through like a double edged sword,

edging my body towards the front of the congregation to repent of my sins.

Even if I repeated them again,
even if I promised a chance that promoted me to contenplate giving up this world’s  vices forever.

Would sermons sound the same.
Would I still be able to feel the the weight of your name
the weight of the cross….

I used to carry through high school hallways in my backpack unacking the gospel to wandering souls.

Now I wonder if mine is safe.

What if that Sunday never came and I died with this weight; afraid of your response at Heaven’s gates.

The thought is heavy, my heart is heavy, this cross is heavy.
so I placed it down hoping that
you would still be around on Sunday morning if I decided to show up.

We burn bridges and ask for a way to cross over to a promised land
we shun his hand unless it has gifts to bare.

I left only to return…
this world was too heavy for me

Running back hoping to find that empty pew,

this cross is heavy but these sins weigh a ton…

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