Courtrooms are the altars of today,
where sacrifices are being made
that are worth more than anything
you can put in a collection plate.
We have forgotten
that Jesus was killed by the state,
that God in the flesh
was a death row inmate,
yet we still tell ourselves church pews
are more holy than courtroom benches,
find reasons to be offended
by criminals found guilty.
We have forgotten that Job was obedient
and still suffered at the divine hand.
Obedience does not get us grace
and money is not Messiah,
but still we chase
a paycheck
like an answered prayer personified.
The moment I was radicalized
was when I read that Moses was a murderer.
Sinners liberate people.
Salvation can be found
inside the people our judicial branch
deem evil.
The altar is a communion table,
but sometimes bread and wine
are replaced with a judge and a gavel,
a court of law turned shrine
for the communion found inside
forgiveness and 100th chances.
I once prayed for patience
and got a traffic jam.
A man named Pontius Pilate
once sentenced God in the flesh
to his death,
and then washed his hands.
This poem is a prayer
for every judge
to think before they sentence,
because sometimes forgiveness
comes before repentance.

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