The Church This past Sunday I picked up an old friend and took him to church. We had not gone together in maybe over a year. We sat down together and he began to talk. I listened. He is insightful with wisdom and I long to hear more from the stories he tells. The story he is telling today brings tears to my eyes just as others have in distant past. I know church is happening but my friendship means more than the four walls that surround me. His words are stronger that the music that plays and his love for me is stronger than all of the love of the congregation combined. My friend sits beside me in a leather bound book no larger than eight inches by six and a half inches. Yes. My old friend is my Bible. I picked him up for the first time this past week in what must have been years. When I opened it up, it fell to chapter one verse one and I began to read. I cannot read a few verses and stop. No, I must keep reading. I can’t get enough. I have picked up an old book on healing and started reading. I have begun to listen to more and more gospel music. I have sat with tears pouring down my cheeks. I feel a stirring I have not felt in many years. Something is happening within me. I thought about a book I read several times years ago. I could not remember it’s name so I call my mother who is my Christian mentor. For I know she knows more about God than I could ever hope to imagine. She tells me the name within minutes of my description. The book I seek is titled “In His Steps”, written by Charles Sheldon in 1897. It is a book that could easily be the foundation of the question, What would Jesus Do. My reading has brought on more questions and I find myself a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. As my friend and I converse, I listen intently as to how he describes his house. Sadly, even with his detailed description I am having trouble finding it. I was raised Pentecostal. Church was a place you walked into with reverence. Your hands raised and prayer on your lips. There was an alter in the front that you could run to and fall on your knees. God met you there. I could feel him moving about, hovering as a mist. You imagined you could reach your hand just out far enough and touch the hand of an angel. I personally felt them there. There was a great deal of crying, praying, shouting, running. Yes running. Remember I said it was Pentecostal. We had our own race track around the walls. Two people at the same time would just jump up from difference sides of the room and take off like Mr. Bolt. Soon a third would take off. The track was a little crowded so that one would take off running around the outside of the building. Music was playing, the pastor praying, salvation was being rewarded. There was no script. No one had coffee or donuts inside that sanctuary. You walked in there with a humble heart and a bended knee thanking the almighty that he has brought you this far. I don’t want anyone to think that I am criticizing your church or the way you worship. I am not. I hope that you can see my dilemma. I’ve been to the Baptist. I’ve been to the Church of God, I’ve been to the United. I’ve been to the Church of Christ. I’m having trouble finding the Alter. In the Bible there was a pool that the angels came down at a certain hour and stirred. I want to find that pool. There was a road that a light shined on and changed a man named Saul. I want to find that road. There was a well where a man told a woman all things. I want to find that well. There was a hill where a man gave his last drop of blood for me on an old rugged cross. I want to find that hill and lay down before that man. Church has changed. We count numbers and utilize all the gadgetry that the world has. We hand out flyers that tell you the song, the page number and even the words that will be spoken. We put up large screens and show the words to songs that are classified as such because they are accompanied with music. We encourage group meetings and invite you to join in some way. All this to keep you in the loop. What happened to the woman at the well who said come see a man who told me all things. Come see a man. I believe that woman was pleading for others to know Jesus as she had discovered him. In my youth the church was filled through the power of God. Messages were preached under an anointing that brought you to your knees. Salvation was the calling. Again I am not criticizing anyones way. I’m just stating my dilemma. I can’t find that alter. The church has moved with the wind. Where did the Rock go? Where did faith go? Where did healing go? Where did the great gift of true salvation go? Last week I found it once again in my old friend. I found the pool to be stirring. Now I’m looking for the well. Love to You All Loyd
Posted on: Tue, 20 Aug 2013 02:08:02 +0000
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