Searching Poem by James Tipp

The search for the inner person the 'religious' 'spiritual' inner me seems doomed
I know what I don't believe but am so unsure of what I do believe, so I question
I question all realities and none at all, all religious experience and the call of the atheist.
The church, that ill defined and unfathomable institutions, that is like a jigsaw messed up,
Hammers pieces together to try and make them fit but they have become fit for nothing.
Their raison_d’être has become the historic building project, they have lost their soul
The structures have nothing of the Kingdom of God about them, rather terminal illness.
The vibrancy of the call of the living one goes unheard and unspoken, lost under the dust.
So here I am looking for a home but knowing my very presence will bring emptiness
There are no solutions other than people just following the call of the Christ alone
Living and breathing the newness of his life in their daily lives, un-bordered, rule-less
For rules begin the corruption of the very life he calls us to, failure looms large
The very failure that lived and breathed in Peter and Judas, Paul and Timothy
In those who failed before them, failed to keep the rules and live up to their calling
Forgetting it is God who calls and knows and brings grace to bear, on all failures.
Whose catalogue of names begins with Adam and ends with you, searcher after truth.