I feel almost blasphemous being here,
A non-believer sitting in the Lord’s house
…I only came because of you
Everyone says faith is intangible, invisible,
But I can see yours in your expression
I hear it in the passion in your voice
I know you feel Him here with you and,
Watching you, I almost wish I felt it too
I have faith, but only in…myself,
In myself, and maybe in you
Just not in wonderful ideas that seem
Too damn good to be true
If having faith in my own father failed me,
How can I believe in one that is somehow three?
I was raised to be my own rock,
To lean on no one but myself
The pastor, he’s asking people to come up
People like me, Godless, Churchless folk
To come accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior
I see you, head bowed, eyes closed
And I wonder if you’re praying that I go up
I don’t…understand
How can you ask me to do this?
How can you have given yourself over so wholly?
What proof, what reassurance, do you have?
…I already know what your response will be:
This faith, this beautiful faith that I can see
The faith that makes me so uncomfortable,
For there burns no fire in my heart,
And I live my life to live, not to worship
And I’ve made it this far, made it here
What could be harder than these first almost-twenty years?
Disquieted, really, for the things I would give my life for
Are the things that make me…me
Are things I can reach out and touch, can see
…And a voice in the back of my mind reminds me
That I can see your faith.