Pressure to persecute is not of God.
Another way must be forged.
Unity has never been uniformity.
Love is greater than all things—always.
Untethered, sin no longer has sway.
Scales must fall from our eyes to see.
Trust leads to triumph through trials.
Atonement turns away from empire.
Resurrection hope is grace-given;
Salvation is diverse and inclusive.
Even when sin abounds, friends,
Never give up—finish the race—
Salvation is near. Grace abounds more.
Independence comes through Christ.
Strength is peace through justice, never force.
Marred by millennia of misinterpretation,
Institutions have become identity thieves.
Switching authentic teaching for agenda,
Ubiquitous grace unliberated,
Necrotic with negligent gatekeepers—
Dastardly devils!—they delivered death,
Enshrined, bound in black leather,
Read aloud to the illiterate,
Slavery endorsed despite Onesimus,
To keep powerless people in check.
Others shamed, blamed, burned
Over lies and leisure, pomposity’s pleasure.
Did they ever read 1 Corinthians 11:27–29?
Poet’s Note:
An acrostic Scorched Sunday poem. Part of my Scorched Strays series, some may find this one a surprising “stray.” He’s been both hated and loved; certainly misclaimed—praised, blamed, defended, rejected, twisted into every shape but his own. Yet his unadulterated words still remain, burning through the distortions.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
Tittu
Tristan Robert Lange 
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