15While Jesus was having dinner at Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. 16When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?”

17On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

 

 

 

Rot My Soul

 

 

 

This vile world is madness; it’s vomit in a bag.
Our putrid lives of mush are God’s sick twisted gag.

Little Sarah giggles.  Soft dimples dot her cheeks.
She smells of innocence, a fragrance mild and meek.
Contrast that with dear mom whose stench is booze and lies,
Who prowls the streets at night thinking “Hon’” won’t get wise. 
The loser, short-fused dad, lit by a wife unchaste,
Explodes with violent rage on Sarah’s pure, soft face.
Fresh blood and bruise curse love from daddy’s fierce left hand,
Feed the deep dark question:  is she seed of this man?

This pungent bile is life; it devours flesh and bone.
Please let it eat my soul, if God sits on a thrown.

Rot my soul.
Send the maggots.
Send the worms.
Rot my soul.
Annihilate me.

 

 This vile world is madness; it’s burning, bubbling flesh.
A curse to live or die, we suffer through this mess. 

Sweet Sarah turned fifteen.  She’s cuter than she feels.
Scars hide beneath her smile, the cuts not seen or healed. 
Mom looks worn and haggard, her eyes sunk in her face.
Cigarettes and Cuervo steal years with each embrace.
Drunk dad stews in silence, trapped in a life he hates.
His thoughts stalk poor Sarah and tempt a morbid fate.
One night, rage strips reason, binds the young girl naked.
Hell forms in daddy’s arms, sets fire to the sacred.

This flaming pit is life; it torments every soul.
Please turn my soul to ash, if God is in control.

Rot my soul.
Feed the maggots.
Feed the worms.
Rot my soul.
Annihilate me.

Set me free.

 

This vile world is madness; it’s bloody hands in chains. 
Countless souls trudge along bound to our wrenching pain.

        Slipping to a stupor, Sarah’s mom flirts with death.
        Loser dad hit the road, guilt and shame on his breath. 
        Nine months Sarah suffers fearing the dark unknown.
        Did faux blood plant the seed, or was it incest sown?
        Life’s response is ruthless: a poor crippled baby
       Shackled to a mother on her way to crazy.
Why keep a parasite regardless of his smile?
Is his love addictive?  Does he snare or beguile?

This prison cell is life, a suffocating drudge. 
Please choke my soul of breath, if God serves as my judge.

Rot my soul.
Feed the maggots.
Feed the worms.
Rot my soul.
Annihilate me.

Set me free.

 

This vile world is madness; it’s vacant eyes and minds.
Oxy and religion sedate with toxic highs. 

Hard drink and drugs sap life, then take their final toll,
Lay dear mom in a grave, a cold, dark, lonely hole.
Sweet Sarah sheds no tears until the man in black,
A preacher to the poor, lays his hand on her back.
Sixteen years of anguish rains on that lunatic.
Bastard child in her arms, the tears of pain are thick. 
The Jesus peddler’s wit sells Sarah on her sin.
He calls the child a gift; next thing, she’s “born again.”

This lunacy is life, cruel jokes from high above.
Please euthanize my soul, if this is how God loves.

Rot my soul.
Feed the maggots.
Feed the worms.
Rot my soul.
Annihilate me.

Set me free.

 

This vile world is madness.  It’s screaming, cold-sweat dreams.
Our past haunts our future and drops us to our knees.

On a cold, rainy night, evil comes crawling home.
A dying, worthless dad is jaundiced to the bone.
Little inbred Isaac, he smiles with all his face.  
He calms a raging heart. Sarah, she calls it grace.
Two good weeks with Daddy, Sarah goes mad with prayer,
Loses her flippin’ mind, and takes the devil’s dare.
On a warm, summer morn’, under a doctor’s knife
Sarah trades an organ to save her father’s life. 

This misery is life, an endless nightmare fall.
Please show me mercy, God, erase me from it all.

Rot my soul.
Feed the maggots.
Feed the worms.
Rot my soul.
Annihilate me.

Set me free.

 

This vile world is madness; it’s unrelenting hate
Suffering a father fit for a wicked fate.

Lying on his deathbed, Dad clings to Isaac’s hand, 
Tears soak his weathered cheeks, reveal a broken man.
Anchored to love and hope, and Sarah at his side,
Dad succumbs to Jesus and bids his mind good-bye.
Sweet Sarah cries with joy for she knows what’s in store. 
Dad turns his weeping eyes to a son long ignored.
For all the blood and hurt, for all the tears and pain,
Dad asks me to forgive, his fists, his rage, his blame.

 

Why, God, why?

Why, God, do you hate me so?
Why do you allow this pain?
Why the shattered, battered lives?
Why the sheets with blood soaked stains?

Where were you when tears ran wild?
When I suffered daddy’s fists?
When I held my dying mom?
When I bandaged little sis?

How could she forgive our dad?
Did Sarah forget her pleas?
Forget her torn flower dress?
Why’d she think God sent her me?

How can I forgive our dad?
Forgive his ravaging rage?
Forgive the “wake up” beatings
How can I escape this cage?

How can evil learn to love?
Can evil rebuke the dark?
Can evil beg forgiveness? 
How’d that boy transform his heart?

Who is this small joyful child,
Who convicts me with his smile?
Who reveals my inner hate?
Who puts my sickness on trial?

What if hate was all I am?
What if hate was all I knew?
Could you forgive me, Jesus,
Forgive me for hating you?

What if I wanted to change?
What if I hated me too?
Would you forgive me, Jesus,
If I dared to ask you to?

Please, God. Please.

 

Forgive me for my hate, for these words full of gall.
Please show me mercy, God, forgive me for it all.

Save my soul.
Send your mercy.
Send me hope.
Save my soul.
God, please forgive me.

 

This vile world is madness; it’s wicked hearts in sin.
All our lives torn apart, can this Christ really mend?

Death lost its grip on dad; his cheeks begin to dry.
Though not a perfect man, his change can’t be denied.
Sweet Sarah leans on Christ; her scars begin to heal.
The shadows of her past fade in the love she feels.
The threads of joy and pain, a woven tapestry,
Reveal the master’s plan: redeemed humanity.
The little boy of smiles, he passes in the night.
Our tears stream like rivers, yet to God we hold tight.

These tears and smiles are life.  Into each day they’re poured.
In faith, I find solace for Jesus is my Lord.

 

Save my soul.
Send your mercy.
Send me hope.
Save my soul.
God, please forgive me.
 
Save my soul.
Send your mercy.
Send me hope.
Save my soul.
God, please forgive me.

Set me free.