From Rob Stearns

Sometimes I think we put such an emphasis on making sure that our “church” looks perfect. That we should all put on a smile and present to the world a united front (farce?) that everyone of us and everything in our lives, everyday, is oh so pretty and perfect.

I’m fortunate to be in a church that is open and honest. Our hurts become our neighbor’s hurts and vice versa. This is a poem about honesty. It’s about the people who worship God. It’s about how our lives are not perfect. It’s about how we are like everybody else in so many ways.

It’s not a critique. It’s not a rebuke. This poem is more an introspective invitation to the world…hey we hurt, too…we are not better than anybody else…our pains sear us to the core…


despite everything, we’re still in a house of healing. And Christ came to heal the sick. Come. Come and be healed. Come and be loved.

Broken in the House of Healing

How many sit amidst the crowd
gathered to worship and preach
One man sits in silence sadness
his wife has left him, no one knows
though she sits at his side and smiles
One woman sits in silence empty
in her church she sits and prays
in another man’s arms she longs to lie

How many sit amidst my church
gathered to pray and sing
One family sits in silence asking
wearing black since two weeks past
they’ve lowered their son into a grave
One girls sits in silence worried
knowing not all, not all is right
too young to know that mommy is dying

How many sit amidst my family
gathered to bow and praise
One boy sits in silence anger
he’s given his heart so many times away
only to remain in silent rejection
One man sits in silence lying
playing a role he’s rehearsed for years
hiding his shame behind deceit’s facade


Comments are closed