Is there a pastor in the house?

‘Twas the weekend of Easter
And all through the net
Not a pastor is posting
On that you can bet

Musicians arrive
Every night around six
Checking their axes
And drummers, their sticks

The sound checks are done
through the monitors and mains
In hopes that the vocals
Their throats will not strain

The pastors and preachers
Both worship and not
Go over their programs
Lights, videos, the lot

In prayer dusk to daylight
For God’s word to hear
And asking for blessings
On staff and volunteers

Excited and exhausted
They come home for a term
To families who card
For IDs to confirm

Who is this that’s standing
Inside my house?
There is a resemblance
Are you really my spouse?

So blogworld is quieter
What free time there be
Belongs to the pillow
Or the family

But just wait until Tuesday
Because Monday they’ll rest
And the posts will be flyin’
About all that professed

And I hope we’re encouraged
To hear what God did
The lives that were touched
Man woman and kid

And for those who know Jesus
We’ll smile and relate
That we had fun
Taking time to celebrate

The cross and its scandal
The grave and its hold
The tomb that was empty
What a sight to behold

So pastors of all kinds
Both worship and not
Enjoy what God’s doing
This week in your spot

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4 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by glandheim on April 5, 2007 at 11:03 pm

    Excellent poem. Thank you. It should be an instant classic. I was wondering where everyone had gone. All the Christians are getting ready for Easter.

    I remember having to be a sunflower in an Easter play when I was about 6 years old. They made me get on a stage and wear this stupid paper flower that enclosed my head, so that my face was the center of the flower. I was supposed to wave my arms around and lean back and forth, along with all of the other sunflowers.

    I felt humiliated, embarrassed and nearly in tears. It made me feel like a girl. Nearly all of the other sunflowers were girls. My cousin got to be the Sun, or some other leading role.

    I knew there was a good reason why I celebrate Easter weekend by piling rocks up in front of all the cave entrances I can find.

    Happy Easter!

    Reply

  2. How CLEVER!

    You better be sure there’s a
    © Joni Ruhs, 2007
    at the end of this! Somebody’ll steal it – even in Holy Week! 😆

    Loved it!

    Phil—

    Reply

  3. Greg-I never did relay my condolences on the sunflower thing. That’s a year in therapy right there! I had to play “Miss Mousy” in 1st grade and sit on a boy’s lap!!!!!!! who apparently was supposed to be a frog prince or something. There’s a picture of it somewhere. I was teased mercilessly by my brother for having a boyfriend. Looking back now, I wonder how the nuns in my Catholic school allowed me to sit on a boy’s lap. All in the name of art. See where it took me? I did make my First Communion a year earlier than anyone else. I was a very mature 6!

    Reply

  4. Posted by glandheim on April 7, 2007 at 10:06 pm

    Is that like in “Frog went a’courtin he did rice, ahuh, ahuh?”

    That’s pretty racy for the first grade.

    As for therapy, I was ruined years earlier. I still remember my first easter-egg hunt. I must have been 3 years old. All these hundreds of kids were running around, grabbing eggs. I was holding a basket, wandering around. Every time I saw an egg some other kid grabbed it.

    I just stood there crying and crying. All the adults thought it was so cute. Bunch of miserable sadists, mumble, curse, curse mumble mumble.

    Happy Easter, anyway. For all the childhood trauma, when I finally figured out it’s all about fertility rites, my attitude changed:)

    Reply

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