Dear Lord, you know me inside out,
and love me — warts and all.
You’re always there to comfort me
and catch me when I fall.
I worship you with all I have,
but sometimes, just the same,
it’s hard to comprehend some acts
committed in your name.
For where is love reflected
in a history that tells
how radical Crusaders slaughtered
countless “infidels”?
Such hatred, even to this day,
is hard to understand,
as churches preach less tolerance
than shown at Disneyland.
Oh please, before I close my fist
to cast a hurtful stone,
impress upon my foolish heart
that judgment’s yours alone.
Protect me from your followers,
the holier-than-thous
who claim the inside track on knowing
what “God’s Will” allows,
As each of us alone must answer
for the things we do
that cause another soul to stumble
on the path to You.
1997 Mary Boren
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