A chairman closes the doors to the Generic First Small Southern
Reformed Baptist Church of Bumpkinville and locks them for the last
time; faced with debt they could not repay and a failing ministry,
the congregation stayed until the last service. Heartfelt goodbyes
were said as the community of twenty wondered where they would go
next. In their heyday their ministry centered around going to college
campuses and proclaiming Christ's justice and the necessity of
repentance, and for these years their only source of encouragement
was each other and Christ Himself.
The chairman sighed as he looked over the building, its roof
sagging under the weight of neglect, its walls and windows cracked
and unrepaired. The last ten years had been frightening, as the
community watched their building's various accouterments languish
away – initially a light fixture in a corner nobody went in, but
then the water fountain broke, then the sound system. The summers had
been especially brutal, as the air conditioning system simply
couldn't keep pace with the swelter outside. Rev. Pastor IV followed
with the same fire as his father, inspiring the congregants more and
more. The chairman, the youngest on the board, came to the church
because it was the only SSRBC in the area, but admitted to his family
he felt out of place in the building. He had much greater views as to
what the building could be used for, and how to reach out, but the
other chairmen denied him due to his youth; he was the man who did
the paper work. The congregants were thankful for his work, but never
gave him deference.
A tear came to his eye when he recalled the time one of the
congregants found freedom from alcoholism. She had been plagued by
the issue for much of her life, and was finding it increasingly
difficult to live normally. The pastor, a usually aggressive and
boisterous man, walked into the room where the chairman was
comforting her and sat down, telling her how Christ had given him
freedom in his sexual addiction and drug dependency in the 70's. The
chairman thought it sounded trite, rehearsed; he had heard a bit of
the pastor's story before, and this followed what he said, but the
chairman didn't think the man was helping. He was surprised, then,
when the woman broke into tears, saying that the pastor said exactly
what she needed to hear. She embraced the man, and they both cried
into each other.
The chairman was perplexed; this one memory was the only happy
moment he could remember as this church. Worship was a drag every
week for him, every week for the last eight years since he stopped
feeling anything in it. He kept thinking about that memory, and
wondered what it was. He never heard God, aside from that one time
when he came to Christ, but he needed to ask the question,
“Why did this place exist, God? These people lived for you, and
you let this place languish away in disrepair. Their ministry was
saving people left and right. So many people have been saved by what
the pastor's said at services. Why am I happy this place is finally
gone, and why do I feel so hollow?”
The silence dragged on for hours, as the chairman sat on the front
steps to the decrepit building and the sun sank below the horizon. He
had faded into sleep, and dreamt of the church. God was there,
sitting next to him. The chairman balked and babbled, trying to find
words to say. The Almighty chuckled and put a finger on his mouth,
silencing him with a slight, comforting hush sound. He smiled and
said, “It is time to repair the Church, my beloved.”
The Savior of the World then beckoned the chairman to follow Him
around the building; its ancient stucco and brick hodgepodge showed
its age, as cracks rent open long ago as vines pushed in and broke
them apart further. Jesus began to grip each brick individually and
strongly, His muscles pulling and shoving against His skin blatantly.
Starting in the very corner, the Redeemer moved each brick into its
original position, cleaning and remaking them to be as-new. This
process went on as the days blew past in the dream, hours eating
away. The chairman thought nothing would sound valid in the face of
all the Glory shining before him, and had began mumbling the start of
sentences, only to be cowed by his own uncertainty. El Shaddai looked
up from His work, knowing what the chairman wanted to say, and said,
“Speak, beloved; I am here for you, and rejoice in your dialogue.”
The chairman, still very uncertain, stammered, “God... gracious
Savior... Why are you repairing this building? The congregants are
all gone, the building's bankrupt and worthless. We've failed you.”
“A great question, but I know there is more you need to say,
child. Speak your mind, heir,” the Almighty spoke.
“I don't wish to speak ill of You in front of You... but where
were You when this church needed funds? Our ministry was bringing
people to You, Heavenly Father, we loved you! And yet, this building
was allowed by You to degrade and languish, the congregation was
allowed by You to diminish and shrink, the ministry was allowed by
YOU to become less and less
potent, and die. We did Your work, why did You allow all this to die?
We were bringing dozens to YOU! And now we're dead!”
“Child, there is much to learn.
Here, help me in my work. I believe this part we both need to work on
to usher it to completion.” The Almighty took the chairman's hands
to the glass shards on the lowest window, and together the Savior and
the chairman pushed the shards out into the center; the glass joined
seamlessly, extra glass coming from the edges of the cracked pane.
The chairman understood what he was doing, and got to repairing the
lowest areas with this new found ability of his. He was lost in it,
and soon He and the Father had completed all they could reach on the
floor.
The chairman left and came back
with a ladder, but dropped it when he saw Elohim knelt down on the
wall... on the wall. The chairman walked up surprised and asked for
an explanation. “I turned water to wine, walked on water, and
defeated the grave. I am not made accountable to gravity, beloved,”
He said, smiling as he returned to the work on the upper windows. The
chairman joined Christ again in His work.
“There is something you need to
know, child. I know you feel the ministry at your community was less
effective than it needed to be, and I know why. You looked to the
ministry for the saving and the ability, but you never looked to Me.
Your church ends at these bricks and mortar, but I am here to expand
your view. Come, that's the last brick. Very well done; let's go
inside and deal with the rafters and insulation.”
Entering the church, the chairman
was taken aback; it was in much worse disrepair than he left it, just
the day before. “All will be made known in time, love,” Elyon
explained, then picked up the parts of a pew that had fallen apart.
The two helped each other piece together the sawdust and tattered
hymnals as The Alpha and Omega continued:
“These pews don't seem to have
been sat in, in quite a very long while. Look, this brochure is from
1993”, I AM said as He passed the brochure over. It struck the
chairman deep when he looked it over; he remembered this one well. It
was a very hot July day, and the pastor (then Rev. Pastor III) was
inflamed in greater passion than the chairman had seen before in his
life. But the chairman wasn't listening. He just didn't feel anything
in the pastor's sermons anymore. But the church needed him
desperately, so he stayed. He wrote on the brochure, “God be with
this church”.
Tears came again to the man's
eyes as he glared at the Creator and said, “Why? You torture me
with this reminder of the failure of you and the church.”
“Child, you still don't see.
Here, up on the rafters. Those lights need replacing. That church
indeed was integral to my plan in this city, and it has run its
course. But my work is not done. I'm not interested in the churches
that you can build and house. I'm here for the global one, you
understand that, I know you do.”
“Oh Maker, why then did you
plan for this church to die? This city only has one. Now it has
none,” the chairman said.
“You still don't understand,
child. Your church is not dead. The people who went to the church you
just closed may not come back, but they are saved because of my
presence in that church. Nothing said in that building that effected
someone else was spoken by humans, but by Me through them.”
“So You give the saving, and
not the pastor. Yes, I understand. But why have I never thought of
that before? It seems like I know this, and it's common knowledge,
yet I’ve never put it into words,” the chairman said, pausing in
his thoughts.
“It is a mystery My children
deal with, that they have things set in their minds without thinking,
and things of profound nature stay just below the surface. There we
go, this looks like a proud temple again. Come child, let us go back
outside. There is something you need to see.”
The chairman and the King of
Kings went back outside,the chairman babbling about his recent
epiphany. “So, the whole world is Your cathedral, and You are the
only one who saves, and there's no ministry who has that ability, but
it is You and You alone who carries that, and it's not me or the
pastor who saves people, but it's You through he and I...” the
chairman continued as he and the Divine Being ascended the church
again. As they walked on the wall, the chairman didn't notice the
unusually high wall until they were well past where the wall should
end.
He stopped and looked down. The
red, faded brick was now golden; a facade of such glory as he has
never seen before. The chairman and the Almighty sat on the top of
the facade as the chairman took in the rest of the building. Several
kitchens, fully stocked; rooms for people to sleep in if they fall on
hard times; a sanctuary of such regal stature as to elicit praise
upon entering; all in the open air, for there was no threat of
weather ruining what God had built. A mighty cathedral on a
foundation wrought from the most glorious bedrock, pure marble laced
with gems of every sort.
The chairman spent days remarking
and praising the Lord for His work in him, then looked at the horizon
and stuttered. “Lord, Great Almighty Jesus, My Liege... what are
those?” he asked.
The things in question were
shambling to and fro; a blown-out window here, a shattered door
there, pine straw everywhere. They fluttered like rain-soaked leaves
in a slight wind. Wails reverberated around the chairman's cathedral,
bouncing off the gilded walls. It was a horror to see. The Almighty's
face fell.
“My cathedral in you is now so
luxurious, you do not recognize what you once were. These shambling
masses are what I see My people as, every day. You and I started on
My cathedral in you such a long time ago, but you stopped letting Me
in. These people haven't called upon Me yet to build in them until
they are complete; that is why I have come to you, My child – you
have a mission. Your cathedral has been built, now it must shine.
Here,” the Almighty produced a light from within His chest, “The
bell tower on the north side. Light it, child.”
The chairman took the light,
carrying it gingerly to the tower, placing it in its cradle. The
Creator said, “It's a shame this is all a large metaphor, but I had
to say it in a way you'll understand. I am with you, child. But know
that it is My work in you that must be brought to completion in your
life, not your work in others. I've given you this cathedral; come
back to me and we will maintain it. Go, my child, and shine.”
the chairman awoke on the steps
of the church; the same decrepit building as before. He didn't know
what was to become of his life, but he knew he was no longer worried
about its direction. He went back home, to his single bedroom
apartment, and looked for another church in the region. There was a
more recent building put up near to his apartment, and he went that
Sunday. He was not content to watch with apathy as this church
languished, but he would do everything he could to be a conduit for
the Spirit. He was still very young, but he already felt significance
and victory in his stead.
For God doesn't measure victory
in the building's revenue, but in the community's growth. And God was
going to build a mighty cathedral in everyone, this chairman knew.
He just knew.
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