Christians At The Door Poem by Michael P. Johnson

When Christians speak of Christ The Lord
We know just how you feel
You get upset annoyed and bored
To You! He isn’t real



You’re blind my friend, you fail to see
You think God’s Lamb a lie
He wouldn’t die upon a tree
For such as you and I


We’re fools to you, we tend to bore
Our lives are void of fun
You just can’t wait to close the door
Or hope that soon we’re gone


You think us strange to speak of God
Yet cringe to hear of hell
Whilst deep inside you’re feeling odd
Though why? It’s hard to tell


You’re not the first to share this view
For I myself was blind
I thought of God the same as you
Till Jesus changed my mind


To selfish gain both night and day
I lived my life of sin
When Christ first called, I ran away
I wouldn’t let Him in


But then I saw Him on the tree
His arms for me held wide
Then once again He called to me
This time I couldn’t hide


My Saviour loved me then and now
He died for all my shame
And you my friend, if you would bow
He’d come to you the same.