What if everybody in church was just like me?
What kind of church would it have to be?
Would everybody have long blond hair?
Or would the only color be light gray?
Would there be a sad face on everyone you met?
Or just some starry-eyed dreamer lost without a care?
Would eyes of everyone be dim and dark,
Filled with loss and despair?
Or would the sparkle of tomorrow be found in every chair?
What kind of music would you likely hear,
If everyone had the same favorite song?
What kind of sound would the voices make?
If their only sound was just a fake?
Would there even be a choir or someone to sing,
If no one came or no bell to ring?
Would the offering plate pass quietly by?
With only a dollar from me?
Would the totals on the board get steadily better?
If the church depended on my contributions, you see?
Would the clothes on Sunday be sight to behold?
If everybody dressed just like me?
Would we all wear red on the same day?
Or hold our hats when it was time to pray?
I have often wondered why I should care,
What ever the color of hair,
Should it make any difference at all?
Especially if you sat there, and sat there straight and tall.
The preacher said he should count on us to fill the pews,
Iâ€™m not sure but is that supposed to be the â€œGood News?â€
I make an effort almost every week,
Perfect attendance must be for the holy and the meek!
I know Grandma used to come every Sunday,
But gee, how often do you have to come; itâ€™s not like a fun day!
I guess I am a little old fashion,
I insist the Preacher use the Bible.
But personally, I prefer the sports section of the newspaper.
That is where the action is.
Those old Bible stories are so boring,
Compared to a football crowd roaring.
Last month he preached on stewardship,
This month they pass out pledges.
Donâ€™t they ever think of anything but money?
Have they been to the grocery store lately?
Or made a new car payment?
If I had that kind of money, sure Iâ€™d give a lot I know.
But times are really hard these days and I stay on the go.
Let them cut back expenses a little here and there,
Maybe find a cheaper preacher, Iâ€™m not sure I would care.
This week he preached on healing and helping everywhere,
Iâ€™m not sure what he wanted; I couldnâ€™t help but stare.
Am I supposed to do all that much? I have no extra time these days.
If he could just keep it simple, I might break out in praise.
Well here it is, again a Sunday, and raining out the door,
Iâ€™d go to church this morning, if I could just get off the floor!
Something has certainly happened,
I was standing over there.
And now all I can see, is the ceiling everywhere.
There must be some mistake, the pain inside my head.
I think Iâ€™ll just get up and crawl back in the bed.
But the arms and legs donâ€™t seem to move,
What on earth could be the matter?
Here I am and the phone is just across the room.
Then thoughts of death and dying, surrounded in a tomb.
What is this thing occurring, I pray itâ€™s not the end.
There are some things I have not done, including precious time.
But lying here alone, it seems all my life is in tatters.
Surely someone will come along and knock upon my door.
Because itâ€™s Sunday afternoon by now,
And folks will miss me shore.
But itâ€™s Football on most Sundays and movies and TV.
Doesnâ€™t anybody care anymore, donâ€™t they live for you and me?
I wouldnâ€™t think that I should die here,
It just would not seem fair.
For all that I have done now though, maybe itâ€™s just my share.
I guess it will be true to hear those words,
Echo through my thoughtless head,
â€œWhat if everybody else in church were just like ME?â€
Joseph M. Westfall is a bi-vocational minister living in Oak Ridge. Since 1975, his ministry has covered pastoral positions in 17 churches across several denominational lines in six different states. He has special training and experience in interim ministry for churches in transition. He has a Biblical style and teaching heart. He encourages honesty and the Holy Spirit. His favorite response to a sermon he has preached? â€œYou make me think!â€