A Missional Poem

So I woke up one morning in the usual way
Meaning I was really not ready for the day.

I stumbled to the kitchen to grab a beer
When the droning of the Television rambled in my ear.

They had said something strange; that the rapture had come
And of all the people around, the human race was done.

Well I couldn’t believe what I was to here
So I went to my neighbor who happened to be queer

He said, “Oh don’t worry my hung over dear
You really have nothing, well, not much to fear.”

Then he invited me in and said with a sneer,
“Those Christians will always just look at me and jeer.”

“Now they are gone, in a faraway place,
And maybe I’ll never again have to see their face.”

“But.” I said with a wondering eye,
“What’s gonna happen when the rest of us die?”

“That’s a good question.” My neighbor replied,
Then he let out a long worried sigh.

We sat there in silence for what seemed like an age,
Then I heard the reporter come back with a rage,

He said, “Apparently it was all some elaborate hoax,
The Christians are hiding, those odd masses of folks!”

Later we found out, it was a scheme by LeHay
To pretend all the Christians had suddenly gone away.

He wanted the world to fear the tribulation,
Where masses would repent and join the jubilation.

At that time I decided I’d really believe
That it was love that people wanted to receive

So I decided to make my neighbor my friend,
And I would be there for him to the very end.