Can’t Quit you Jesus

Can’t Quit You Jesus

(“The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” John 1:29)

I can’t quit you Jesus, though
heaven knows I’ve tried. I walked out
of your house where the whoops and hollers
overshadowed the Spirit flowing in living streams of love.
I left behind every edifice where people name
the anti-christ time and time again and call for
armageddon to be fought to prove the fat-armed
god
they serve is ready to return with an ax and sword.

I can’t quit you Jesus, and I
wish I hadn’t waited so long. Disabused and
enlightened by the primeval light I walked out
to hear a quieter persuasion like daffodils smiling
for the sun. I lost you in the sanctuary; my heart was
famished for love. But you vanished from the place
I had always expected to find you free.

I can’t quit you Jesus, and I
know I am not the only one. We were enchanted
by the lover of our souls only to be bowled over
once we wondered how universal it had to be.
Stones were politely thrown at that heresy that
could not see the divisions between A and B.
Borders were drawn so precisely that we knew who
had to be in or out.

But I just can’t quit you Jesus, though I wonder
what the warriors in the pews must think. They
make it so distinct,
like weeds among the rye they are ready to clear them
out to protect their perfect lawn.  I was angry with you
for deceiving me to become such a fool. I started at only love
but the occupants of your house have retuned every chorus to
sound like marching orders. They ran out of time.

I remember dancing with you, Jesus, and my eyes wet
with tears at the thought of your touch. I remember simple
homes where circles were enlarged to make room for the next
outcast to come in from the storm. That’s why these memories
that inform me there must still exist some way that insists
holy kisses can begin a passing of the peace that
leads us to follow a now unfamiliar path. We walked
out and woke up reborn. And usually without a hint of
your permission. But we walked.

I can’t,

I simply can’t,
I cannot even quit your Jesus. I cannot.