The frogs sit in the water filled pan,
A mild little croak now and then.
Outside looking in with impish glee,
Is a bright-eyed man to see what he sees.

The frogs don’t jump and they don’t panic,
Waters feeling fine better than the Atlantic.
They fail to feel and fail to see,
That impish man turn up the heat degrees.

Before they know it those once happy frogs,
Had passed on through deaths fog.
They were cooked to death in submission,
Heat applied with their silent permission.

On fire Christians sitting in a pew,
Listening to what God has for them to do.
None of them notice the whispers in their ears,
From clever demons and their its okay cheers.

The people don’t think about a missed Sunday or two,
It’s just until ball season is through.
You used to love country rock so a song now and then,
You don’t even notice when two became ten.

A playful flirt, lunches and the two of you in one car,
Drinks after work, you haven’t gone too far.
Next thing you know empty spaces in the pews,
Satan turned up the temptation slowly and got through.

As the frogs learned and the Christians too,
It wasn’t the big surprises that brought the doom.
Simple, seemingly innocent decisions led them astray,
One to their death and the other to Satan’s way.

Beware your surroundings and how comfortable they are,
A false security and you go too far.
Living for Christ in this world shouldn’t fit you just right,
It should chaff you, and feel too big or too tight.
                          d.f.a.v.  5/17/15
—Donna