To Condemn and To Judge: Not the same

my Way, your Way, their Way

People versus People

Being served around a table

Beating their chests, jabbing utensils deep into neighbors' hearts

Indifferent towards their neighbor

Snatching at the mounds of food

Chanting at the heavens, "We are able! We are able!"

Because they see only the food

And the supply comes steady

And keeps demand stable

Which sustains their bodies,

Their vulgar habits.

They've seen the waiters

And they laughed and spat on them as the plates were delivered

Day after day, meal after meal

Causing some servants to quit in disgust, yet most slaved on, scorned,

Undeterred, Waiting…

Though none had ever seen the chef;

save for messages in his pen that waiters carried in on every plate,

At the bottom of each pile of grub--

it was His marks, the details of each delicacy's Price and Weight

But consumers didn't want paper, didn't bother with the inklings

They went on mowing down the pastries, the melons, the cocktails

And the flavored meats

Until they discovered they hungered for flesh

And pried lustily at neighbors' hearts, to plop a heart on their platters

As they beat their chests crying, "Plates of bloody meats! Bloody meats!”

Almost in spite of the unending slips of paper

That were scattered like feathers about the chair legs

And the servants read…

"Orders from the chef," mocked the flesh-gnashers

For the "Bossy" voice in the messages vexed them sore

As well as jaded taste-buds that stuffed them bored

None wished to sample the chef's suggestions.

So Meats flooded the halls

And the Bread, and the Greens, even Drinks tapered off

As the chef tailored the desires

Of their pig-style slop

And among the grease and the blood, any penmanship was lost…

…as in the early 21st century

The world's cities heaped up skyscrapers of rot

So as they beheld them, the hearts of the inhabitants shaped the same way

Decay blotted out their Vision, and what Good meant was forgotten

When fulsome became the norm, and in the whole of the globe

Was ingrained the thoughts of Sodom and Gomorrah

"It's my life, get outta my business, don't judge me."

"Meekness is weakness, and unwarranted kindness, a façade."

But God is merciful

But only so long:

He said, "Judge not, lest you be judged."

That meant, "Condemn not, lest you be condemned."

Because He said, "Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not,

And you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven."

He said, "Hate the evil, and love the good,

And establish judgment in the gate."

Righteous judgment not the skin into account takes

"Do not judge according to appearance, but judge with righteous judgment."

Righteous judgment looks at the actions, not the person

"For the judgment you pronounce, you will be judged."

So we welcome the person, we help them see their errs,

We give them ourselves, got their backs like honest friends

The correct Christian way,

Has the piercing look, and all the heartbreak

Of a loving parent doling out discipline

That corrects not makes allowance for.

Because "The mouth of the righteous speaks wisdom, and his tongue talks judgment."

The parent that returns not the child punishment for wrong

Loves not the child

Because "In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as he saw fit."

And as result

"The way of peace they know not; and there is no judgment in their goings."

the consequences can be seen flourishing; Apply it today

Improperly disciplined children, growing up confused of right and wrong

Morals replaced by ethics, what the laws of men-children sing-song

Because He never said, "Do not be angry."

He said, "Be slow to it."

And that He is…

Which means that Day must Come

When the table shall be flipped

And leave those feasting at it, desolate

And leave a man in a white, fluffy hat

Making known how his restaurant was perverted

Sodom and Gomorrah expired.

Can the whole world follow

The footsteps of those two cities,

wrong indecipherable from right,

And not expect to store up God's wrath?

When God will scatter the likes of the wicked abroad

And at that Table-Flipping,

The apocalypse will ensue, meaning time of The Revealing

A Seven-year, World War 3, that will ultimately be a battle for all souls

An Earth-shattering time, the harbinger of Judgment Day

At the end of which, the Chef will prepare cake

And throw a neverending party for his Servants:

Those who patiently, faithfully Waited, cared for the diners,

In the Ways and Name of the Lord

So that the Tablers might see His love through their reciprocation of it

And seek out the chef, recognizing him by His Word

and spread it to the very Feasters, that they once lived like.

And the Lord's party shall be

A place for the dejected, the poor in spirit, the humble, the meek,

Alone

But those that have not hearkened, will face Judgment--

Not the judgment given by the Waiters, done with loving affection--

The kind that serves justice: balances the scales of vengeance by way of condemnation…

But if you want to attend the party,

The Invitations lay all around you, at the chairs' legs;

All you have to do is this:

Get up from the table

Wash your hands

And ask for an application

To be a Wait at the Chef's restaurant

To do things God's Way

I know the drill;

I started, as all of us do, at the table

Yet There came no point from that sort of material living after sometime

So I looked back down, backed from the Crowd, 'Vestigate the call to rounds of Serving,

Quickly got distracted sat back down for another taste,

One thing had led into another,

relishing, reeling, recalled my service; forgot my plate

But something called me to my fate again and I ran back scar-hard

If you turn that 180

At that point, you will always be safe

Unless you adhere to society, take up lodging among The Great Cult

A Restless, Self-indulgence Movement that "redefines" the rules, never breaks them

Under the pseudonym of Peace & Tolerance and Respects of men

Trying to rip YOU off indulgence, but can never rip you away from God--

Not even by taking your life.

"Why," said

the furry rabbit, dangling from the fox's mouth, by the scruff of the neck, "Life is everlasting."

The fox snorted and replied, "How much you wanna bet?" "I'd wager my life," withstood the hare.

"Suits me." said the fox, who stopped to hold the hare out in front of its fiery breast. "But I'll tell you one thing, rabbit." continued the fox. "Death is more everlasting." and he lifted the still hare toward his mouth, licking his lips.

The little hare laughed merrily before the teeth came down. "Tell me, which of us is truly dying at the moment?" demonstrated the bunny. The fox wasn't listening. It was one of those old rabbity tricks, he reasoned. The fox barely stopped to chew. His meal satisfied--until lunchtime came around.

So riddle me this, would you rather be the fox, or the hare?