NO CHRISTIAN GATE

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No tyrant thrones the skies above,

No blind strike falls from God of love.

Deeds, not creeds, will tip the scale,

For sin’s dark curse has lost its veil.

 

Christ’s blood unbound, a ransom poured,

Not for a few—but all restored.

Faith’s a whisper, soft and slight,

Yet your walk must bear the weight of light.

 

Stumble short? The wheel still spins,

Life’s potter molds what grace begins.

No fast pass through heaven’s gate,

No creed will burn away your fate.

 

Religion’s a shell—a brittle guise,

If love’s not rooted, all else dies.

Bad fruit blooms? The cycle turns,

Rebirth calls till the spirit learns.

 

For heaven’s key’s no silver prayer,

But fruit that ripens pure and rare:

 

Love that lifts, joy that sings,

Peace that soothes and softly clings,

Patience steadfast, kindness near,

Goodness shining, crystal clear.

Faithfulness that will not break,

Gentleness for mercy’s sake.

And self-control—the silent might,

A flame that tempers wrong to right.

 

So test the roots—does love still grow?

A barren heart cannot bestow

The pulse of faith, the fruit it brings—

Without it, heaven clips your wings.

 

No love? No pass. No gilded crown.

The wheel will turn—spin you down,

Again, again, life grinds your core,

Till love unlocks heaven’s door.

 

Religion’s no raft—it won’t make you whole.

Love alone redeems the soul.

No roots, no fruit—your spirit’s cast,

To live, to learn—until love holds fast.