Prophet Pastors

My Family PaysHebrews 6:10

For the man whose household has been carrying the hospitality of a whole church unrecorded, this message reads the verse that says forgetting it would be an injustice God is not capable of.

She Has Cooked For Strangers For Nine Years

Messages

A Story That Was True Ten Years Ago

She Did Not Flinch

You Have Eaten Standing Up For A Year

The Altar Call You Did Not Believe In

The Sound Of The Chairs Going Back

You Have Never Had The Table To Yourselves

You Prayed For The One Who Was Leaving

She Has Cooked For Strangers For Nine Years

Nobody Has Said It Over You

Whether The Whole Thirty Years Was A Mistake

You Have Been Carried And Did Not Know

You Have No Words Left For Yourself

You Drive Home With None Of It

The One You Married Has No Pastor

Two Years Of Setting It Down

Warm In Public, Grieving Nowhere

The Months When The Page Said Nothing

They Left Over Something You Would Do Again

Saying It To The One Who Gave You Your Start

Somebody Has to Hold the Hands Up

You Have Said Fine So Often You Cannot Tell

You Envied A Man Who Just Came And Ate

You Blessed A Table You Could Not Taste

It Will Cost You A Friendship

You Lost A Friend And A Member In One Person

The Room Has Already Decided

The Date You Have Moved Four Times

Not One Sunday, But Every Sunday After

The Calendar On The Fridge

The Message You Have Deleted Every Time

You Do Not Have A Pastor

You Already Know What It Will Cost

Hands On Somebody And Nothing Moving

The Plate That Went Cold Again

Singing Words You Could Not Feel

Children Who Learned To Be Watched

Four Chairs In Row Six

Teaching Prayer With Your Own Gone Quiet

The Arithmetic You Do In The Car

It Will Cost The Church Something

The Car Park You Could Not Get Out Of

Somewhere With More For The Children

You Have Never Arrived As A Guest

Nobody Holds A Funeral For This

True When You Said It

The Fourth Row From The Back

You Set The Table And Never Eat

They Explained It To Everybody But You

A House That Is Not Theirs

Naming It In A Room That Does Not Want It Named

The Priest Brought One For Himself First

You Preached Resurrection At A Graveside

The Back Row Of A Building You Had Nothing To Do With

Eleven Years Of How Are You

The Verse You Handed Over And Could Not Use

The Ones Who Faded Instead Of Leaving

No Hand Has Been On Your Shoulder

A Grief You Had To Put In A Report

You Stopped Expecting Anything For Yourself

You Have Been Using The Word Against Yourself

The One Thing You Canceled

The Girl You Baptized At Fourteen

The Week In August, Three Years Running

The Twenty Minutes Between There And Home

And Then You Have To Buy Groceries Here

Two Junctions Past Your Own Turning

Every Word Right And Nothing Behind It

You Asked For A Door And Hoped It Stayed Shut

They Talk To You Like A Service

You Read The Promise Out Loud

You Have Not Said It Yet

The Page in the Back of the Notebook

What You Are Afraid You Handed Down

One Family Will Hear It As About Them

The Thought Never Arrives On Its Own

One Plain Sentence Could Cost The Job

Six Years Beside You And No Goodbye

You Have Not Said Yes To Anybody In Years