Not long ago, we visited a well-known church in a large town near our home. At first glance, all was quite impressive. 
The parkway leading to the church was flanked by established businesses with manicured hedges and large homes whose ample acreage was abundant with pools, trampolines and professionally engineered tree houses.
The curving ascent through posh suburbia was a slight yet noticeable climb. Just as we thought we had missed the church, we saw the bright orange cones that indicated lots of traffic. This had to be the place. Like the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace—the changing of the crowd required much planning and coordination. There were so many coming and going that the local authorities had to lend a hand to make sure that all maneuvers were made without incident.
This was a smooth running operation. We were volleyed from one parking attendant to the next. The closer we came to the church the more articles of bright green the attendant wore; kind of a lime green status symbol. The same young man that motioned us to the first time visitor parking served as crossing guard when we made our trek up to the building. He must have also been doing some serious security duty that kept him from fraternizing with the patrons. His eyes were hidden under a safari hat and sunglasses. However, his lips, though appearing cemented together with epoxy made a slight noiseless motion as we crossed in front of him.
Every portion was straight-line architecture and “state of the state” of the art. You almost expected the huge waterfall in the clearly marked garden to morph into whatever the next “scene” required. Just as suspected, with the lift of a blind, it served well as a baptistery backdrop. This place was truly fabulous. A passionate, articulate pastor led the massive gatherings that faithfully switched places each Sunday morning. There were signs indicating that there was something for everyone.
The drone of activity just outside the sanctuary was vaguely familiar; much like the gathering of anxious shoppers waiting for the grand opening of a department store. Everyone pushes toward the door; engaging in casual chitchat, eyes miss connections at well-timed intervals, cell phone junkies make one more text before the spree begins. The ominous difference was that shoppers waiting for sales have a serious gleam of anticipation. Most of those in waiting looked worn under their perfectly styled facades. It appeared as though this gathering was just an item on the “to-do” list. If there was any anxiety at all—it was over swiftly reaching a seat in a sought after area. No, there were not any “bad” seats in the house…planning is everything, you know.
The well-delivered sermon was laced with drama to peak interest, scripture to pack inspiration and points to prove intention. The fabulous roster of foreign missions outreach read like the departure boards at a major airport. The youthful pastor reminded the parishioners that there were few slots available for the next adventure. Sadly, the fervor of his delivery winced with a hint of desperation as he boldly reminded the audience of people in need just outside the walls of the church, their Jerusalem (Acts 1:8).
What else could anyone wish to know about this splendidly organized operation? There was much coming and going…an impressive edifice…culturally sensitive musicians…challenging sermons…a well-dressed multitude…close and clearly marked visitor parking. Actually, If Jesus slipped in as a causal observer, he would probably be concer
ned with answers to two questions: “What happens Monday morning to Sunday’s challenge of reaching the needy with love and truth?” and “how does this well-oiled machine treat the maintenance man?”
Unfortunately, we are easily impressed with appearances and we often miss the truly important. The “stuff” we consider so valuable here on earth, we will walk on in Heaven. The wise among us address issues that touch the heart of God simply, Him and them: How we reverence Him and how we treat them.
The parkway leading to the church was flanked by established businesses with manicured hedges and large homes whose ample acreage was abundant with pools, trampolines and professionally engineered tree houses.The curving ascent through posh suburbia was a slight yet noticeable climb. Just as we thought we had missed the church, we saw the bright orange cones that indicated lots of traffic. This had to be the place. Like the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace—the changing of the crowd required much planning and coordination. There were so many coming and going that the local authorities had to lend a hand to make sure that all maneuvers were made without incident.
This was a smooth running operation. We were volleyed from one parking attendant to the next. The closer we came to the church the more articles of bright green the attendant wore; kind of a lime green status symbol. The same young man that motioned us to the first time visitor parking served as crossing guard when we made our trek up to the building. He must have also been doing some serious security duty that kept him from fraternizing with the patrons. His eyes were hidden under a safari hat and sunglasses. However, his lips, though appearing cemented together with epoxy made a slight noiseless motion as we crossed in front of him.
Every portion was straight-line architecture and “state of the state” of the art. You almost expected the huge waterfall in the clearly marked garden to morph into whatever the next “scene” required. Just as suspected, with the lift of a blind, it served well as a baptistery backdrop. This place was truly fabulous. A passionate, articulate pastor led the massive gatherings that faithfully switched places each Sunday morning. There were signs indicating that there was something for everyone.
The drone of activity just outside the sanctuary was vaguely familiar; much like the gathering of anxious shoppers waiting for the grand opening of a department store. Everyone pushes toward the door; engaging in casual chitchat, eyes miss connections at well-timed intervals, cell phone junkies make one more text before the spree begins. The ominous difference was that shoppers waiting for sales have a serious gleam of anticipation. Most of those in waiting looked worn under their perfectly styled facades. It appeared as though this gathering was just an item on the “to-do” list. If there was any anxiety at all—it was over swiftly reaching a seat in a sought after area. No, there were not any “bad” seats in the house…planning is everything, you know.
The well-delivered sermon was laced with drama to peak interest, scripture to pack inspiration and points to prove intention. The fabulous roster of foreign missions outreach read like the departure boards at a major airport. The youthful pastor reminded the parishioners that there were few slots available for the next adventure. Sadly, the fervor of his delivery winced with a hint of desperation as he boldly reminded the audience of people in need just outside the walls of the church, their Jerusalem (Acts 1:8).
What else could anyone wish to know about this splendidly organized operation? There was much coming and going…an impressive edifice…culturally sensitive musicians…challenging sermons…a well-dressed multitude…close and clearly marked visitor parking. Actually, If Jesus slipped in as a causal observer, he would probably be concer
ned with answers to two questions: “What happens Monday morning to Sunday’s challenge of reaching the needy with love and truth?” and “how does this well-oiled machine treat the maintenance man?” Unfortunately, we are easily impressed with appearances and we often miss the truly important. The “stuff” we consider so valuable here on earth, we will walk on in Heaven. The wise among us address issues that touch the heart of God simply, Him and them: How we reverence Him and how we treat them.
