A Matter of Conscience

 

 

Permit me for now

To use out of context

The Apostle Paul’s analogy

In the following text.

 

In 1Timothy 4 verse 2

This kind does not care

Having a dysfunctional conscience

Paul refers to as seared.

 

We live in times

Some call the last days

Based on the gross immorality

That some portray.

 

Void of any conscience

Having put it to sleep

Thinking up some other evil

Even as we speak.

 

We dread the news,

For it is not inviting

With so much global upheaval

And nations fighting.

 

Long time dead

With no moral compass,

No wonder they wonder

Why we fuss.

 

And the social club

That we still call church

Moving on untouched, uncaring,

Leaving us in the lurch.

 

A matter of conscience

With them as well

As it was in the Apostle’s time,

It goes on unquelled.

 

A number of hit and run

Traffic violations:

How can these people soundly sleep

Without interruption?

 

 

A matter of conscience,

Having a severe lack,

Being seared with a hot iron,

They are entrapped.

 

That iron being sin

Left unchecked

And so, there’s no conscience,

No, not a speck.

 

An awful condition

If ever there was one:

That God-given stabilizer

Completely gone.

 

No wonder they say

These are the last days,

For how can life be sustained

If we continue this way?

 

In little Barbados:

Forty-nine murders

And it is far worse than here

With our neighbours.

 

Jamaica and Trinidad

Just to name two

But it is rampant throughout;

Not just a few.

 

A matter of conscience,

No moral light:

At least none to help distinguish

Wrong and right.

 

Might is right

And numbers: strength

And if I can get away with it

I will go that length.

 

Nothing to restrain,

My conscience is dead!

Nothing to stop me from doing

Anything that’s dread.

 

 

That little voice

That I used to hear

Upbraids me no longer;

It’s just not there.

 

 A matter of conscience:

It’s no longer alive,

Because it is dead and buried

Evil now thrives.

 

A no return point

That is how it seems,

I am so deaf in my inner man

I can’t hear you scream.

 

From friend to fiend

I now do my worse,
I am void of any conscience,

Oh, what a curse!

 

This “last days thing”

Is a mighty copout

Such that even the visible church

Is now in doubt.

 

Not even God,

Some dare to say

Can turn these wicked people

From their evil way.

 

 

But I beg to differ

For there go I

Were it not for that encounter

When Jesus passed by.

 

Stewart Russell © December 14, 2024