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I, The Wealthy Outcast

“Lord, who has believed our report?” cried Isaiah. It is to the sinner a prophet is sent, but sinners do not see nor hear by virtue (or vice) of the fact that they are sinners. The carnal man cannot receive the things of the Spirit. And because they are sinners, they are the ones who need to hear! So then both prophet and perpetrator, both saint and sinner, both herald and hearer learn of the grace of God, without Whom is nothing possible. “Therefore He has mercy on whom He wills, and whom He wills He hardens.”

 

Nobody believes me;

They wince when I speak;

I give them Scriptures;

They give me notions.

They profess to love the Lord

to honor the Scriptures

to walk in righteousness and truth;

They have their own bibles

Of bits and pieces

Tailored to their doctrines

To suit their purposes.

They hate the Light;

They love their gods

And their sins.

God is anathema to them

As He is

So they change the glory of God,

They take His Name,

Giving it to gods of their own liking;

They take His words,

Wresting them to their destructions

With smiling public faces

They deceive themselves, saying,

“We suffer for His sake;

Our reward is stored up

For which we have so labored.”

Paupers, laid in the dust,

Naked, diseased, deranged,

Babbling vain repetitions,

Bled bone dry

By the gods they serve,

While I remain wealthy and healthy

And alone.

Moon River, Oct. 31, 1991

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