POPCORN JESUS

Deep inside His skillet
The searing heat swells
It is a hell of sorts
The only hell
He ever made.

Hell with a purpose
Hell to be thankful for
Hell with a burn
Hell that makes us turn

Away from self
Off that shelf
That keeps us
Luke warm.
Spit not worthy
Of His lips.

Some say He saves people
Some say He sends some
To hell forever.
Some say He is
Meek and mild.

I remember once
He was hot
And wild.
Temple money changers
Knew to scatter.

Jesus ain’t no
Hell bent savior
Jesus is a people
Popper!
He knows we are
As a kernel of corn.

We are worn
In confusion
Prone to
Delusion
Desperately in need
Of a holy fusion.

He knows
how to get us
How to sweat us
How to fret us
Until we learn to win.

Even the dullest
Of us
Who think we
Choose Him
Finally awaken.

When the heat
Gets its hottest
Breathing its heaviest
Quiet its loudest
No air is left.

Then, pop!
Then another
Then many, many
More!

We thought we only
Needed the sinners prayer.
Told to take control
Make salvation happen.
We didn’t need his heat
Nor His blazing skillet.

Many a hardened
Kernel thinks it
Long ago jumped
Out of the fire as
The magic Words
Were spoken.

They never yet
Have met
The popper God
The pop corn Jesus.
All do, all will
In His time
Not ours.