Oluseyi Akinbami | + Follow Poet |
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In Our Dead Church

Our attendance is a mere formality, a routine unconnected to the hearts 
We sing, but not to the True God,
We pray with wondering Hearts 
Even Prayers are dead, it is a mere routine of minutes 
The fervency is gone, we know it from our hearts 
We are just socializing
The men are now old who tore our hearts in years gone by
They are tired by age or backslidden, 
We only remember their gone by exploits   
And the new ones are distracted by social media and the world  
In our Dead Church
There are no secret prayers, 
No heart-searching sermons, 
The choristers are desperately seeking applauds 
They import songs from the other side 
and characteristics of the unregenerate 
Our dead church 
Now have special seats in front differentiating men from men
We are no longer brethren, Pride ekes outs 
We have become Ichabod 
We tell stories of yesteryears and hoped the days will come again 
In our Dead church, we worship men 
Mere mortals, we fight or hate those who oppose them 
They like it so, unlike Jesus who recognized the spirit 
In our dead Church, things have become mechanical 
Messages are no longer divine, they are from the internet 
Our love is conditional 
Our hypocrisy is loud
Our head is full, our hearts are empty 
We are Christians in church but sinners at home
Don’t judge me is our lyrics in defence 
In our Dead church, we have sent The Master out 
We have become masters as we swindle the people through tithes and offering 
Our old clergyman still keeps his office
Even when he ought to be silent so we can repent 
In our dead church 
The new Pastor never witnessed revival; he knows nothing about it
Our hearts are dead, our soul is panting and yearning for the church of Acts
Where Jesus was enthroned above man and mundane things of earth 
We are back to Rome
Where are the Luther?
Where are the Zwingli?
Who will bring Jesus to His throne (our hearts)

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