No Saints In These Pews Poem by Peace Ekeh

I'm no saint—only human, weaknesses showing,
I sin without noticing, imperfect, still growing.
I won't wear a mask so you see me clean;
I'd rather be real than act like a screen.

I've known what it is to be very, very bad,
to plot in the quiet, not shout when I'm mad.
Now I watch our kind—preaching Christ through closed teeth,
dying secret deaths, chained addictions beneath.

They point at the log while their own beams stay fixed:
They lie, hold grudges, hot tempered, Disobedient to their church leaders i.e by coming to church late, gossip, judge—97% hypocrites.
They call secular songs a straight path to sin,
then play them behind doors and let shame slip in.

They fornicate, covet, let profanity fall,
ignore the Spirit's nudge—pretend it's not all
written down as the same kind of failing and pride.
When've they turned the cheek with nowhere to hide?

It's fine if you're reaching for something saint-new,
but stop measuring folks by the shoes that you've not chewed.
Only One justifies; only One gets to test—
devil or neighbor can keep their bequests.

So I'll walk my rough road, eyes open, head clear:
Christ, not their finger, will judge me right here.
Written by @Ekeh Peace
©Ekeh Peace