Well dressed, like celebrities at the Met Gala
Maybe your jacket acts as a cloak
Your tie could very well be a noose around your hearers’ necks
The clapping of your hands
The stomping of your feet
All just acts in your charade
Smokes and mirrors
Lies drip from your lips in the pulpit
What you’re offering is less than the bare minimum
And this angers me
I see right through you

Tasked with giving the people food for thought
Seeking to be sought-after and not sincere
Jesus did not die for this
You are not dying to yourself, preacher
The Word is life and truth
Why are you refusing to choose what is true?
You are lying to yourself, preacher

When have you opened up the pages of the Good Book
Sat at the feet of God
Chatted with Jesus
Wrestled with the Holy Spirit
Until you were shaped by Him?
Mere clay
Right in the Potter’s hands
Willing and able to use you rightly
Missing the mark like arrows on a dartboard
One day others will realize that sounding and looking like a preacher does not make you the child of God
The saving power of Yahweh does

Stop deceiving yourself
Get back right
Let the Word transform you
Else, your efforts will be in vain

^{Photo by Anna Might (IG:@annamighttakepics)}