Your dress is all tattered, the veil still hangs down.
Your discolored shoes match the yellowed shade of your gown.
Yet you are my bride, I bade you to wait.
And I will again claim you, if I must, even in this state.
You didn’t see it coming, that which left you this way.
Cunning is the enemy, that took your beauty away.
Those you trusted used against you, even they couldn’t see.
But know that your enemy’s goal is to keep you…from me.
None could love you enough to pay the debt I’ve paid.
I am certain you know of the sacrifice that I made.
I hung from a cross, a sword thrust in my side.
Water and blood poured from that wound when I died.
Water, and blood…
Like from a laboring womb it did surge!
Can’t you see, I didn’t just die on that cross, I gave birth!
What I birthed was my elation, my joy, and my pride.
My most perfect creation: my church…my bride.
And you grew with a vengeance, spreading my word!
All over this earth, my gospel was heard!
Your enemy quaked with fear in your presence!
Angels rejoiced in awe from the heavens!
That’s what my church was intended to be!
But it slipped through your fingers like raindrops through a tree.
Oh, I see all your good works, and I hear all your praise.
You still keep the commandments, you still pray in my name.
All these voices crying out to God’s only son.
Though I have love for them all… there should be but one.
One voice, one vision, one goal, one side,
One savior, one church: one groom, one bride.
I warned you of those who would cause separation.
Yet you divided my church into denominations!
Your enemy is pleased with the turmoil he’s brought.
An army divided now can threaten him not.
He is afraid of your union, he labors to keep you apart.
For the strength you would gain strikes fear in his cold heart!
Its not to late! Still you can unite!
All banding together to fight the good fight!
Put aside petty differences, go back to the basics.
Most importantly whole hearted worship and love for your savior.
If only love would encompass each of your hearts,
Then you wouldn’t know what ever tore you apart.
I am coming back to gather you all home.
Your faithful service has earned your place at the throne.
But what you make of my church now rests in your hands.
Will it be the vision of God? Or the product of man?
Will you be wearing these rags? Your face…will you hide?
Or will you proudly embrace me…my glorious, beautiful bride?