Christianity is Not a Game.
Not fanfare in the bleachers,
but flesh knit to His frame—
we, the Church, the Body of Christ,
carrying His heartbeat in our veins.
We’re not spectators in high holy seats,
nor hired heralds with polished bands;
our worship lives in our heart that beats
our witness—lives surrendered to His hands.
Inside the gates of righteousness,
trusting grace to shield our faltering steps
we follow the narrow path of holiness.
To lift us up with mercy, Jesus wept.
Purge the evil that festers within—
Cleanse the stadium of your heart,
let no deceit or bitterness cling,
exile the darkness that tears you apart.
For when we stumble—every one—
we bow beneath the weight of our sin,
confess each fault in humbled song,
to rise again. In purity we win.
For love demands truth in our fall.
We live as heirs of heaven’s light,
devoted always to our Savior’s call,
His blood renews our Holy sight.

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