We have more silence in the church than we know what to do with.
We were told silence was golden
So we paved our streets with it convinced we were creating paradise.
Equating ignorance and bliss we
Yoked our mouths and ears together and avoided tough questions.
Yeah, silence is golden
Wearing fine jewelry to appear as wise men
you inherited a legacy without appreciation or understanding of where it all came from
A spoiled generation that does not know the value of a dollar.
So quick to speak about love, kindness, and peace among men
Yet you promptly turn your back on the people that don’t fit into your plans.
Waging quiet wars against the misunderstood
Saying far more than you intend to with your silence
One time, I tried to read you like a book
But There were too many empty chapters filled with missing text
So I let my imagination go wild
I was reading between nothing but empty lines
While Misinformation flew off the paper and Clung to my hopes that somehow we could understand each other without speaking a word
We spent far too long writing empty love songs to one another
Too much time on a ballad of rests
I can not understand how our symphony of silence could be so noisy
Which is why It took me so long to notice where we went wrong
That Even the things left unsaid can be a clanging cymbal if not done out of love
However you continue to wear dentures to hide a mouth full of missing teeth
Wearing a fake smile to guarantee that no one ever knows the difference between your empathy and your apathy
Yeah, Silence is golden,
Or so I was told
I swallowed nothing but easy truths
Hoping this antacid would stop the butterflies in my stomach
Hoping to avoid the parts of the bible that simply hurt too much to read
Like picking at a bandaid but never quite ready to rip it off
Yes, I wasn’t always the person I am today
I carried comfort to the bank in stride
that I might bring it with me when I die.
Like I was certain … it was the currency of heaven.
So I wore blindfolds in dimly lit places to justify all the times I stubbed my toes.
A willful blindness to free me from being held accountable for my actions
There is something twisted about our understanding of silence that when someone speaks up
we are quick to throw them under the bus and label them heretic
But I am tired of fostering shallow conversations in deep waters and I know you want to dive deeper than this
I know you want to see more than the black and white
I know you can see just how messy life can be
So hold your breath with me that we might see how just how small we really are.