It’s a tragic, odd day—quite a puzzling sight—
When Christian writers don’t shine much light.
You squint at their pages and scratch at your head:
“Is this Christ-inspired … or something else instead?”
They wear the right labels. The titles sound true,
But their words blend right in with the cultural stew.
If salt tastes like sugar and light looks like night,
How can a reader tell wrong from what’s right?
Remember the days when godliness was among men,
When Dad always knew best in the homes back then.
With Beavers and Sons and good lessons each week,
They showed flawed folks striving, not virtue turned weak.
Then culture cried, “Boring. Too tidy. Too square,”
So sex took the stage and moved into the chair.
From Three’s Company jokes to Friends on the couch,
Commitment grew flimsy. Restraint got the ouch.
Then suburbs grew scandalous, science got crude,
With Desperate Housewives and jokes that were lewd.
The Big Bang brought innuendos, laughs built on desire—
Brains full of facts, but hearts stuck in the mire.
Thank God for Hallmark with its snow and its cheer,
Where love waits for vows and endings draw near.
It’s mocked as too simple, too clean, too polite—
Yet it still shows what’s different between wrong and right.
They say we’re like frogs in a pot warming slow,
That heat sneaks up gently till we don’t even know.
But frogs heed the warning and jump when it’s hot.
It’s people who linger and will die in the pot.
Some don’t want the exit. They love that hot bath.
They sip what will scorch them and smile at their path.
They’ll say, “This is freedom. This water feels fine.”
They will perish while praising the heat they enshrine.
The Bible gives us warning, not just once or twice:
Be “in” this world’s streets, but don’t buy its advice.
Don’t mold to its pattern. Don’t dress like its mold.
Hold fast to what’s holy. Be daring and be bold.
Jesus taught his disciples so they’d understand:
Stay sent into darkness, but don’t take its hand.
We walk in the world, but our roots grow above—
Not fed by its lusts but nourished by God’s love.
So write with a compass, not trends of the day.
Let truth shape your stories, not filth in the way.
For writers bear witness with all that they’ve said.
May Christ be made clear when our pages are read.
