It would never happen here.
These four walls, yes, they are fortress
With glistening steeples all within clean, no, pristine.
A supernatural world
With perfect people
with painted on smiles and perfect lives.
It would never happen there,
Inside the walls of this home
With mommy and daddy and daughter dearest.
They are a good family,
Trustworthy in all regards.
The white picket fence, the manicured yard, the BMW that is the family car.
It would never happen to her.
Honor roll student, rule abiding citizen.
Always joyful, always caring.
Not the cheerleader, not the partier.
Wears a purity ring, swears off dating.
Shares the Gospel daily.
But it did happen.
Perfect daddy and daughter dearest.
Within the four walls of the fortress.
And suddenly there's more to the story.
Makes the grades and follows the rules out of hope that
Just maybe if she's good enough he'll leave her to sleep in peace.
Joyful and caring to put up a front so that nobody knows her little secret.
Swears off dating to protect her a from the men she knows only want her for her body.
The purity ring a talisman that maybe she can be restored.
And the Gospel? Well that's the only thing she has left to hold onto anymore.
And if that were not enough just like that it happens.
One month, two months, three – nothing.
A drugstore pregnancy test in a dirty bathroom stall.
The results: devastatingly positive.
She can't bear it on her own – she knows that.
But who can she tell?
No that'll mean another beating.
The guidance counselor?
A joke. It'll spread all over school.
Nah. It doesn't happen there.
Of course not! 'Cuz it doesn't happen here!
But of the remaining options, the church is the only one worth considering.
And so she walks into the fortress, a cloud of black in an all white room.
She approaches the leader,
"There's something I gotta tell you."
And so, church, here's where you decide.
What to do?
Are we gonna be the church?
Or will we brush it aside because that doesn't happen here.