Not a Winner

NOT A WINNER

Listen my friend, 

Let me begin by sayin’ at the front end 

That our American bent to win every competitive event  

And intent to end at the pinnacle 

Is a tendency that’s clinical

It’s so subliminal yet downright criminal 

such an abysmally nonsensical trend

That we all should be tryna end 

Why are Christians so itchin’ to win?

Cause it’s my sense this pent-up ardent penchant for power and 

enchantment with champions,

this not so hidden obsession with winnin’

obeying that inner thirst 

to end up first 

is a disturbing swirling blend 

of ambition and sin

“I’ve read the end of the book’” the preacher spouts

“We’re the head and not the tail,” the believers shout 

So I’m not surprised to turn our eye inside 

and find this desire to rise high 

is a guise that in reality bites

and belies haughty eyes ogling triumphs prize,

and hides our outsized like for might 

inspired by entitled white American pride 

Bigger, better and bold - it’s the same old same old 

gotta go for the goal and lay hold of the gold

But no matter how many the wins that we now hold,

we just can’t fill the hole 

Whether it’s all that land we boldly stole from first peoples 

or all those slaves coldly bought and sold 

so long ago amidst our church steeples

When it’s all told 

someone else will shoulder the load 

While we from God’s special fold enjoy the spoils of the mother lode 

Even though it leaves others out in the cold, you scold, we shouldn’t hold it over those old soldiers who warred and won, and if there’s been injustice done, well, son, we’ve got a winning record to uphold 

So raise the chorus,

God must be for us

Even if those smaller and weaker nations deplore us or adore us 

We’ll keep taking more and more for us 

We’re consumers at our core, that’s so sus 

Running over others like a relentless china shop Taurus

Stop and count the cost before us, I implore us

throwin’ in our lot with the haves, not the have-nots 

we gotta win the coin toss and hit the jackpot

so we keep keep pulling the slot and beating the snot

showin ‘em who’s boss, win at all costs  

Can’t bear to wear the loser’s label, we’re just not able 

to NOT win it, see

Or else it’s such a loss of our fragile identity 

Us saints, we love a winner, 

but shoot, do we hate those sinners -

Oh, I mean the sin

Yeah that’s the spin

unless of course it’s immoral women 

or men who love other men 

cause they’re for sure undeservin deplorable vermin 

Gotta predetermine to shut our ears to that mountain top sermon

We’re religiously educated but not spiritual learnin

That’s  how you defend your conscience  against 

Confessing to your own not so hidden sin 

of arrogance and benefiting from unbefitting systemic racism 

That’s engendered a demonic fascist “us and them” 

When is this moronic nationalism gonna come to an end?

Can I get an amen?

Man O man, are we driven! 

Mano a mano to go for the gusto 

In lust over the power we crave 

Evading the loss of the cross and its costs 

to too quickly get to the empty grave 

Isn’t it all about triumph and standing strong and defiant?

Isn’t David the hero slaying that Goliath giant?

Our guy must win the election, 

guard against all party défections 

We’re infected with a hefty quest for conquest over the radical left 

but after a heart inspection  

it’s all just left us bereft of affection 

When Jesus decried power and position 

And laid down conniving ambition

to lose his life and meekly die for those bound for perdition 

He asked for follower not leaders

Cause He’s needier of those who know failure,

And don’t hide their warts, more bonified bleeders 

Than polished performers, born winners and champion breeders

Indeed He denied fame and fortune, 

As He accepted his portion 

Of a lower proportion and posture

So he who claims his Name but doesn’t do the same 

is just a cheap imposter

You know the Church has always done her best work from the margins and edges  

Not running for the Senate to win it 

but pledging to stand with society’s dredges 

Inviting to the party those in the byways and hedges 

Saving those tempted to leap from window ledges 

So why are pastors so preoccupied chasing political privileges  

We barge into school boards barking and ranting with bullhorns about book banning  Always fanning the flames of partisan games while planning grander churches, expanding budgets, bigger staffs and church mergers,

Chasing attendance surges and larger splurges that have only serve our baser urges  

Can we just refuse this ruse 

of choosing to use the Almighty as an excuse 

for the abuses or wrong uses of our flag and our troops, 

and not stoop to embrace this crazy notion 

He might somehow slight other countries in favor 

of our somehow more favored nation? 

The very values we feel are under attack  

In fact we lack living out in their defense. 

Hence, we’ve forfeited a generation to win the culture war’s assualt 

We exalt in MAGA  or whatever you call it to a fault

and it doesn’t make any real kingdom sense 

We rail against reprobates and rebels

Fearing we’re nearing becoming the minority 

In our wistful thirst and drive to regain

some sort of lost majority 

selling our soul to win congress at the cost of our priorities 

To turn our cheek to love the least of these, 

to bless our enemies, 

and submit to Christ’s authority 

What a novel notion it is that the Gospel is for losers 

For liars, cheats, food stamp users, habitual boozers and drug abusers

Our Jesus came to heal and save the sick

Not to bless the rich and powerful, the chic, the savvy or slick 

We want to wear the Christian label but can’t seem to make it stick. Ick! 

We need to distance ourselves from  a stance of arrogance, 

And look askance at our pernicious romance with dominance 

It’s repentance from our hesitance to address power imbalance and deplore our pride more and more 

That will move your hand of favor

Make us more like you, Lord, 

You didn’t filet your detractors or slay the bad actors

Your forgave your enemies after 

‘cause position and ambition didn’t factor 

You were the Infinite who came as an infant - 

it figured to you little that you left as a pitied criminal 

You eschewed the lofty path to meet wonderers and wanderers on the liminal 

Lord, help us to be the people you always intended 

And not the cynical, judging, competing kind who are so easily offended 

I want to choose to lose when, in fact, I could win

‘Cause in the end 

that’s the kind of people we always should have been.