What if I told you that
I was Jesus?
Would I have your trust
right from the start?
Or like last time,
you’d never realize you messed up?
But what if I were?
Would I like what has
become of the world?
Would I smile or shake
my head as I felt the cold?
Shivering as your faith
believes what religion has sold?
Would I have to prove
to you by performing a miracle?
Or would you know by
just my word?
What religion would I
have to pretend to be?
Before any religious
leader started to disregard me?
In a state of wonder, I
know I’d stand confused,
By the way we seem to
pick and choose,
One dreamer we applaud
for his guts to stand alone,
While begrudging
another for trying to make his dream come true?
What if Jesus was that
man you looked at on the street?
Commenting that the
city should do something about him,
So that you wouldn’t
have to admit that you’ve lost your humanity,
Making me wonder, can
you really afford not to show a little generosity?
Would Jesus go back and
say that things were fine and well,
Or have to say that
God’s children have learned how to create Hell?
All too busy trying to
attain man’s desires,
As religions change the
words of God they supposedly admire.
What would you say if I
said I was Jesus?
And asked why it
mattered that I was a certain religion?
Then told you I was
just Jesus, the son of God,
Would I find myself on
another cross?
If I asked why we don’t
encourage individuality,
Would you say, “But we
do!” Knowing that you just lied to me?
Would you even be aware
of what the consequences might be?
As another terminal
disease is discovered to be growing at an alarming speed,
At the same time
another senseless war kills the child that would have made it extinct.
Would I approve of the
way we talk about humanity?
Then turn away not to
do a dang thing we say,
As another family falls
to the perils of our society,
The innocent eyes of
children asking, “What’s to become of me?”
Would I forgive you for
believing in what makes you feel better?
Even if it’s at the
cost of your soul being lost forever,
Would you blame the man
in the pulpit on Sunday?
Saying that he claimed
to be speaking for me,
Even though his words
never felt like God’s on each of those days.
So while religions earn
funds in the millions,
And their flocks wonder
how they’ll feed their children,
I have to ask why it
would be so hard to believe that I was Jesus,
Since we seem to
display a gullibility to believe anything that scares us?
Then with saddened
eyes, I look to the heavens and ask,
“Is this the way,
Father, you would act?”
@Bradley S. Hartman