The sonnet below is from the book. I got the idea from a sermon by the Cambridge priest/poet Malcolm Guite, who, after a reading of Revelation 3:14-22, commented that he would like to see that scene portrayed by some great artist in a painting or stained glass window on the wall of a mighty cathedral.: the risen Christ vomiting up the prosperity gospel and commercialized Christianity. While I have no delusions that I am a great artist or my poems a majestic house of worship, the idea intrigued me. The first line came to me rather quickly and I hammered out the rest, mostly on neighborhood rambles with my dog, Spurgeon, over a period of months.
Laodicean Sonnet
So then
because thou art lukewarm, and
neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. - Revelation 3.16
"If you want a religion
to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.
I am certain there must be a patent American article on the market which will
suit you far better." - C. S. Lewis
I saw the face of Christ fish belly-pale
And bloodless blanched. Five wounds in mottled skin
Glowed livid. From his bowels keened forth a wail.
Bright blazing eyes blank, banked, glazed, gazed within.
Chest's sudden spasm under golden sash
Belched forth and splattered plastic platitudes.
From white robe's hem now ricocheted and splashed
Best lives, bland smiles, be-happy-attitudes.
From sword-sharp mouth vast waters thundered forth
Great half-chewed chunks of saltless sentiment.
Gobs, globs of branded worship without worth
Spewed, spattered, spat in torrents of torment.
'Midst Heaven's host dry heaves declared a stop.
Christ wiped his mouth. An angel grabbed a mop.
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