We are the church

Cathedrals built on hills –huge churches sparkling with golden crosses parking lots reaching for blocks. Ten feet away the drunk goes unnoticed as the passers by speak christianese and wonder when God will fill their bank accounts. Pastor tells how god will bless your socks off and you notice your socks are on the pastor’s feet. Fake smiles on dead faces and bibles unopened… Comparing houses with houses-cars to cars as hungry families are right across the street. Pats on the back and names are given—I am a prophet-I am a Pastor –I am a apostle. The clubs are meeting on every corner and the tithes are received. Bigger churches are the cry! A wake of sorrow has left crowds of disillusioned people wondering why they aren’t blessed and part of the clique. Religion opens it’s mouth and divides the Godly…In the deep darkest place-the place of blood, drugs and alcoholed walls. The place of hopelessness and violence we find a man who is in the mud with his arm around another. Wiping vomit from the mouth and giving himself for others- he talks of one who loves beyond all sins, cares at all times and has made the way clear for new beginnings. He asks for nothing and gives all he has. The oppressed asks what church this man goes to and his reply is simple, this is my church and Jesus is here with us now- I use to go to this one and that one but Jesus wasn’t there- He was out looking for those who needed Him…
~D~