Overturning Tables

Jerusalem’s temple courts, grand and wide,

Were meant for prayer to dwell inside,

Instead, a greedy market buzzed its sound—

God’s house was profaned, sin did abound.

Tables were manned, coins were held tight,

Doves were sold in the plain daylight.

“Come get your lambs!” with added fees,

Profits were gained from unrighteous pleas.

Pilgrims had traveled from far and near,

Worshipping God both from awe and fear,

The costs that met them were quite unfair—

They were being robbed in this house of prayer.

“You must pay temple taxes!” was their cry.

“We have perfect, pure lambs that you can buy!

”A scheme for profit hid behind the need.

They robbed the innocent, fueled by greed.

Jesus came with burning eyes,

A holy fire raged at their lies.

He flipped the tables, scattered the gold,

Drove away the sellers, loud and bold.

“This is My Father’s house!” He cried,

It should have held prayer, not greed and pride!

It was meant to meet God in reverent grace—

But they turned it into a marketplace!

His anger was not merely human wrath,

Jesus walked a holy, blameless path.

Nor was His anger selfish rage,

Holy zeal was center stage.

His anger was because He cared.

For the hearts misled, his temper flared.

He stood for love, justice, and light,

He protected what was holy in God’s sight.