“Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage — with great patience and careful instruction. For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.” (2Timothy 4: 2-4)
Meet the hungry wolf bullies,
Smartly dressed in lamb woolies…
Watch the faithful fall into their snare.
Nasty Gnostics with moxie,
Who condemn orthodoxy
False teaching they're dying to share.
Fast flesh-walking talkers,
Newborn again stalkers…
They will never give you
A straight answer!
They deeply enjoy
The ear-tickling ploy…
Their Doctrine Unsound
Is a cancer.
They're progressively chic,
While havoc they wreak…
Always pushing the world's
Liberal causes.
They croon the same tune,
From bedroom to womb…
No matter what God sez the Laws is.
They're polite and they're nice,
Their sweet words entice….
Their demeanor is stylish and wily.
But their thinking's malaisey,
Their theology? Hazy…
And their faces?
…Round, yellow and smiley.
But the grin that they're grinning,
Is a grin born of sinning….
Unbelief with a song and a dance.
Cheap Grace is their blight…
Their Christology? Lite.
Lost in a pearl-trampling trance.
Compromising lukewarmers,
Tradition wall-stormers…
Their mantra?
“God's Word's not Divine!”
So they shift and they sway,
As the winds blow each day…
Self-Esteem they strive to enshrine.
Nicolaitan Kaballers,
The mythology scrawlers…
Gnostic prowlers inside the Lord's Flock.
Weed seed sowers all,
Who have answered the call….
To dislodge those seeking The Rock.
Their doctrine's from hell…
Man's Fall?…Never fell.
While the seed of discord they sow.
These Straddle-the-Fencers,
Are effective convincers….
Their Christology? Done from below.
They're chock full of knowledge
From Theology College….
Often scholars of Hebrew and Greek.
They sure know their stuff!
But knowing stuff's not enough,
If the heart isn't broken and meek.
When the watchmen lie sleeping,
False doctrine comes creeping
Quite craftily right through the gate.
When the Word is deposed
The Body's exposed…
Lord, we pray that it isn't too late.
The poet, Tom Graffagnino, lives in Hamilton, Georgia. He and his wife, Ann, have been married 31 years and have two children. For more information about the artist, please browse the website for more of his work (original drawings and paintings, limited edition prints and note cards) as well as information about ordering/purchasing. Or, you may request information by writing to Tom at: Tom Graffagnino, P.O. Box 387, Hamilton, Georgia 31811.