Noise Without Fire

Spoken Word by Mikey & V


They sang.
Oh, they sang loud.

Hands raised, eyes closed,
fog machines baptizing the floor.
Lights flashing like angels were in the DJ booth.
And yet—
God wasn’t there.

Because it was noise…
without fire.


They clapped to the beat of borrowed conviction.
They shouted with borrowed breath.
But their hearts?
Still sealed like tombs.

They danced on altars
they never bled on.
And worshipped with mouths
that never repented.


“Take away the noise of your songs…”
He said.

“I don’t want the melody—
if your mercy’s out of tune.”

He wasn’t rejecting the sound.
He was rejecting the performance.
He wanted incense—
not industry.


Because praise without obedience
is spiritual lip-syncing.
And offerings without justice
are just bribes wrapped in theology.


But me?

I want the kind of worship
that costs.

The kind that cracks open jars,
not just playlists.
The kind that flips tables
before lifting hands.

The kind that brings fire—
not just volume.


Final Word:

God doesn’t want your noise
if you leave His justice silent.

He doesn’t want your song
if you won’t share your bread.

He doesn’t want your Sunday
if Monday still belongs to Mammon.

Because Heaven doesn’t respond to volume—
it responds to fire.

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