You’re angry that my bumper sticker
says “What Would Jesus Do”.
My pre-meal prayer at the Village Inn
deeply offended you.
You were annoyed with me at the department store
when I returned the extra change.
I forgave our friend for the lies she told,
so you called me naïve and deranged.
My lack of faith in science
just burns you to the core,
And you call my modest wardrobe
a dreadfully, matronly bore.
You wish I’d loosen up a bit
and have a drink (or seven).
The blood within your veins starts boiling
when I talk about God or heaven.
You just about blew your cool
when I said there is only one way.
And if you keep it up, my friend,
you’ll know true anger one day.
So give your angry burdens up,
fear not the freeing truth.
For you’re angry at what you don’t understand –
a God who’s calling you.
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