A Pastor's Delight
-by Dale Rude

I made it my aim to be a Pastor’s delight,
Not cause any waves, never put up a fight. 

I lifted him up to the highest of heaven,
I sought to be blessed, in my life be no leaven. 

I did all he asked, and never complained,
After all I was little, and he was ordained. 

I sweated and labored to stay in his grace,
I knew if I questioned, I’d be put in my place. 

Don’t ruffle his feathers, nor to stir up a mess,
In all that I did, it was he I’d impress. 

In my eyes the Pastor could never do wrong,
His favorite stanza was my favorite song! 

But one day his pedestal came tumbling down,
Instead of a verb, I had made him a noun! 

“The Position” he occupied, it was but a gift,
“The Pastor’s my equal?” in my mind what a shift! 

You see, it all changed when a man named Ignatius,
Elevated himself, and became ostentatious. 

And down through the ages continued this trend,
Until popery formed, with complete bitter end. 

A hierarchical system was the sad end result,
And this structure gave birth to a cruel religious cult. 

That cult made the scripture equal their own tradition,
And the Bishop was elevated to a high lofty position. 

Along came the Protestants, built an image to the beast.
But that wasn’t too hard, all the skids had been greased. 

And they passed along their structure; they too had a master,
Instead of a Bishop, they called him “The Pastor”. 

Now little remains of what Jesus once said,
“Each one of you are brethren, and I am your Head.” 

“Lording over the people is a Gentile’s woe,
But among all the saints, it shall not be so.” 

Whosoever will be chief, let him be your servant,
When men rise among you, you must be observant. 

There are grievous wolves, and they spare not the flock.
So be watching for them, they’re a stumbling block. 

So now as I ponder whose delight I must be,
It’s not the good pastor, but it’s Jesus I see. 

For He is the one who saved me from sin,
It is He whose great love I delight to be in!