To the Controllers, Bishops and the Like
Be careful, Bishops, what you’d bottle up,
What streams of living water you would dam:
The Lord respects and fills each child his cup
With special liquor from The Great I AM
Even so the hapless beggar has his song
Some streamlet from the mountain’s hidden spring
Which might have been a river running strong
Had but the man been given his right to sing.
Too often those who wield their wand of power
Obstruct God’s very flow and turn it sour
Thus does His very grace become disgraced
And plans of Love are thrown back in His face.
For sometimes those appointed and approved
Without discernment on some bishop’s part
Fall into pride and surface quite removed
From that anointing that bespeaks the earnest heart.
Then envy springs up in the muttering flock
Fingers are pointed at the favored son
Then factions form, unfairness is proclaimed
And churches split down to the weakest rock.
So prone are hierarchies to pride’s foul sway,
The word of faith becomes the only way.
2006 Gene Pinkney