Borrowed Breath

Is it just me, or does Christianity often seem like a play?  We have lines we say.  We react to things a certain way.  Many times, my spirituality seems memorized and rehearsed. 

We have pat answers for situations and questions.  I hate pat answers when they are given to me.  So what gives me the right to force them on others? 

To a lot of people, Christianity seems shallow.  Perhaps that’s only because our religion is shallow.  Why am I afraid to be real?  Why do I insist on sticking to the script? 

Is this life no more than a well-written play
With lines I pore over and rehearse?
Do the cue cards spell out the words I should say
With clever answers in preconceived verse? 

Am I just an actor who’s playing a part?
Is this world a set on a lighted stage?
Are the lines in my head?  Do they come from my heart?
Was I cast as a fool or a sage? 

Can I ad-lib or make it up as I go?
Do I fear the director’s dreaded “Cut!”?
What will the critics think of the show?
What if I miss my lines and clam up? 

My most dreaded fears have come to past.
I forget my lines and flounder around.
I see the disappointment of the cast.
I’m afraid I’ve let everyone down. 

I stand in the spotlight and stammer and stutter,
Embarrassed, I wish I could exit stage right.
My eloquence is reduced to a mutter.
I’m making an ass of myself on opening night. 

The spotlight dims, the house lights come on.
The theater’s empty except for you.
You stand to your feet and holler, “Well done!”
At least my audience of one approves.  

Who are we trying to please?  Man or God?