The Curse of Being Baptist

I met with E.B. Brooks last week, the man who covers my back and reads my reports, and makes the way easy for me. I shared with him the curse of being a Baptist – that hyper-activist, high-acheiver, chronic-workaholics like myself do not find healing in the Baptist circles but instead are rewarded and their faults go unchecked. “Maybe I should have been a Catholic” I told him. I also mentioned a poem I wrote last year that describes my terrible state. He made me promise to send it to him.

. . . i am my own junk-collector

an iron monger

who buys but never sells

heavy trinkets

and shackles

that rattle out

the jingles

of my self-promises

and pathetic chants

for someOne

to buy me

out

i am the master than throws the stick and

i am the dog that fetches it

i am my own fagan and

i am a hundred oliver twists

i am my own gravedigger

and i am the first volunteer

to fill the hole

when the mourners

have left

Read Full: “I am my own jailer”.

Andrew

Andrew Jones has been blogging since 1997. He is based in San Francisco with his two daughters but also travels the globe to find compelling stories of early stage entrepreneurs changing their world. Sometimes he talks in the third person. Sometimes he even talks to himself and has been heard uttering the name “Precious” :-)

4 Comments

  • What a terrible state to be in indeed!
    C’mon Andrew…leave it all behind! Can you not hear the still small voice beyond the plastered walls, the vested interests, the vestements, the investments, the vests?!
    Best to you.

  • I like that poem. A lot. I think it applies to more than Baptists, though. High achievers crop up in just about any denomination (including those of use in nondenominational denominations). Come to think of it, though, there are plenty of low achievers out there, too. It’s all about balance.
    AC
    P.S. – Glad to see Franz Ferdinand and Green Day on your list of tunes. 🙂

  • So, contemplating celibacy are we? Having done time in both Baptist and Catholic circles let me just say that there’s neuroses waiting for you on either side of the fence – just different ones. Take your pick.

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