The Sunday Fix?

Oh Lord, let me not rot and become pew fodder!
Stagnant souls with wandering Sunday minds
Who fill churches like waiting room patients
Ready for their treatment, their Sunday fix,
But with no thought of the world outside their own.

Vacant visions of humanity
Selfishly protecting their Christianity
Robbed of their divine destiny
Missing out on the true opportunity
Playing no part in Christ’s ministry.

Oh Lord, let me be your spiritual warrior!
Not passive, but active, battling the world
Every day of the week, not just on Sundays,
Challenging the world to look again
At the cross, and what it means to be saved.

Complacency can be deceiving,
With its warm, beguiling glow.
Easy come, easy go,
Church on Sunday, off we go…

Go where?
On with our routines and habits?
Or out into the world?
Go forth and make disciples,
That’s our royal command!