The Death of the Church (Edited Version)

Our zeal takes a grim turn when we fail to resuscitate the life of something that was never living. Rigor mortus has set in and no matter how much we try to move forward our actions are stiff and unnatural. Our community is a graveyard of corporate church corpses--walking hands outstretched toward anything--led by tunnel vision, empty interaction and blank expressions--with the almost silent drone of death that is often mistaken for the sound of revival on the horizons.

We have been mourning the death of our local religious institutions for years. We go through old photo albums of happy times and lively get togethers, and think, "If we could just have one more church reunion or old time revival." But He is not here, He has risen.

We stand mourning, just like Mary, looking for Jesus inside that human grave. We smell the clothes laying limp as a memory of what we once had. We brush up against communion with the living stone but can't see through the bitter tears of standing inside an empty tomb. Fill our pews. Pay our dues. Deny Him three times. Budget for His return.