For 20 years I slaved
12 hour days, 6 of them a week.
Always out of pocket
Never enough for bills
Let alone a holiday
Always giving, giving & giving
No-one to ever give to me
Under attack, being threatened
Nothing quite seems good enough.
Burned-out & depressed, too much trouble,
Easier to just get rid of me fix “the problem”
Move along, start again
Repeat, repeat, repeat
Even in humility, waiting on God
Was never quite enough
What was I doing, where was I going,
Where are the converts, where is the money?
Sometimes I think I hate the church
For all the pain I still feel,
For the debt I still carry
For the mistrust and the spite,
I choose to forgive & free them
to be all they can become.