ALL THAT GLITTERS

All That Glitters

by Ruth Harms Calkin

I love our big church with its tall steeple

And impressive white pillars

You know I do, Lord.

But sometimes I get the impression

That we're running a sort of perpetual marathon

That keeps everyone gasping and gulping for breath.

Lord, I can't quite believe

You applaud all our frantic effort

Or demand each time-consuming activity

Or encourage our continual attempt

To function at galloping speed.

I wonder, dear Lord

Do statistics really matter so much?

Do our motives have more dross than silver?

Are we more eager to do than to be?

More anxious to impress than to reflect?

Would simplification increase

Rather than decrease our power?

So often, Lord

I feel trapped, drained, shattered

A living sacrifice to everyone but You.

When conferences and committee meetings

And car pools and exhausting rehearsals

Suck me in until I feel totally submerged

When status and glamour subtly urge me on

Then, Lord, I seem to hear You say:

"All that glitters is not God."