Just a bit of a weird poem really....

So if 'I' meets 'thou'
How do I know how?
And if Messy is the way
Then how do we know when we stray?
And if the music's too loud
In what way is it proud?
And when the bread bits fall down
JC won't lose his crown!
The colours keep changing behind the wooden cross
And that page in Common Worship is not where we wos!

So it's all got confusing
Not sure if I'm losing
Or is weakness a good thing when in it you're strong?
Or are there just a lot of things about which I am wrong?
My Hookers and Harnacks. My Brunners and Barth.
My Eighteenth century is awakening but I'm falling apart.
Some theological tangles they're sure to sort.
The lecturers are lecturing, the students are taught.
And my alephs and sigmas are all coming to naught.

Which expressions are Fresh and how do we reinvent the old?
And is the postmodern church being infected with mould?
And our Bishops aren't in office cos of what they have said.
And the Synod are meeting whilst we're tucked up in bed.
And the prayers are so early and earnestly felt.
And some words in my essays are awkwardly spelt.
So they'll spit us out the other end, battered and bruised
For theological college ain't one to be cruised.
They'll take you apart and you'll slowly reassemble
Into something quite other you're not sure you resemble
But it's raw and it's real and it's all there is really
So hang in there and you'll find it's the church you love dearly.