Christianity began like a mustard seed			
taking root and growing
into a tree that offered
refuge and hope for weary birds

before the twelve even left this earth
scheming minds poisoned the tree
during the night
and carved their wishes into the wood
the branches still looked safe and strong
but under the dirt
the tree’s roots spread wide
corrupted by politics and patriarchy
the mustard seed shriveled and cold

Jesus’ words passed from
ear to ear
like a game of telephone
written down by human hand
canonized by men
who tossed aside what didn’t fit
inside their box

Constantine built an empire
that spread across hills and valleys
and across oceans
forced conversions in foreign tongues
schisms and wars in Jesus’ name
all about power
and submission

Is this what Jesus meant
when he said the church will be built upon
this rock
and Peter felt its heaviness?

twisting biblical words to fit agendas
that leave a bitter taste in our mouths
as gatekeepers block
access to the body and blood

those who question are told to be silent
and pray harder
scripture interpreted as proof of sin
the brave walk away from the church
a slow parade of doubting and damaged misfits

keep walking, friends
find that dusty and hopeful path
push aside the overgrown brush
and you will see the woman
sitting at the well with Jesus 
offering living water

drink