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Typing on my Screen on a Friday Night

Typing on my screen on a Friday night,
Distressed by the online fight,
Of sovereign grace and doctrinal right,
Of arguments that steal joy and light.

Shunned again, for having an independent will,
Slandered and discussed behind my back, a bitter pill,
All enabled by that perilous site, Fakebook,
A breeding ground for arguments, not a friendly nook.

"Right" doctrine vs. "false" doctrine,
Intolerants vs. tolerants, a never-ending rhythm,
A display of self-righteousness, no love to show,
Pharisees disguised as defenders, a dangerous flow.

Their "rightness" mistaken for grace,
An angry and self-important spirit, a misplaced race,
They don't know our Lord, their theology wrong,
A lack of understanding of the "grace" they bong.

Pride leads to arguments, a sad display,
Keeping them from the true church, far away,
Complaining of being "sheep without a home",
But refusing to join a church with "people like that" to roam.

I'd rather be with SINNERS who know,
Salvation is ONLY in Christ, not in a show,
Of gospel defense and rightness that's mistaken,
For grace that's given freely, not something to be taken.

God's people come together to worship and support,
To love and to bury, in His love they cavort,
No arguments of who's saved or who's not,
Just sinners saved by grace, in His love He caught.

Topics: Brandan's Poetry
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