The building stood empty and dark.\u00a0 Here and there, a window was broken, a jagged hole left as evidence of a rock, hurled by a strong arm, powered by passion and malice.\u00a0 All around the building, rocks, shattered glass, broken boards, nails and debris lay as evidence of dastardly deeds.\u00a0 The doors were all locked, some with chains and bars.\u00a0 It was evident that no one had used the building for some time.<\/p>\n
On this particular morning, a small crowd of people stood out front.\u00a0 In the dim grey light oozing from an early morning cloud covered sky, one could see the people, coagulated into small groups.\u00a0 Two or three standing together here, four there, perhaps as many as six or eight in one group off to the side, like puddles of people on a rain drenched parking lot.<\/p>\n
Near the center of the lose crowd, a clump of a dozen or more people mingled about.\u00a0 The group included several men, women, and even two or three children skittering around the edge of the tightly bunched adults.\u00a0 They stood near the front door of the building, staring at it, while whispering quietly to each other.\u00a0 Every now and then, someone would chance a quick glance at one of the other small groups, and then lock their eyes back on the front door while whispering a word or two to the person standing next to them.<\/p>\n
\u201cI loved this place.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did it come to this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey shouldn’t have let this happen.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe should have stopped them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI knew this would happen if we let them have their way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are we going to do now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s their fault, let them figure it out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told them what they should do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey should have listened to us.\u201d<\/p>\n
If one were to move through the crowd, the same whispers would be heard in every group.\u00a0 Different people, with different lips, uttered the consistent message of a common spirit.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, a rock came crashing through a window and landed at the feet of a clump of people to the right.\u00a0 The whispering stopped for a few moments, then resumed.\u00a0 More windows began to shatter.\u00a0 Here and there, nails began to slip from their place, creaking and shrieking as if in agony, losing their grip on the old boards they had held together for many years. Bricks and boards began to fall away.\u00a0 The building was coming apart but the whispering didn’t stop now.\u00a0 Instead, it became a drone of human noise, demanding to be heard over the sounds of the dying building.<\/p>\n
As the noise and intensity increased, parts of the building disappeared.\u00a0 The glass broke into ever finer pieces until it was nothing more than grains of sand, blown by the wind on a journey to the coast.\u00a0 Bricks crumbled like clods of dirt in a hot dry corn field.\u00a0 The roof shingles lost their grip.\u00a0 Degrading into a gooey mess of oil and gravel, they dripped from what was left of the rafters and sunk back into the ground from which they came.\u00a0 The wood crumbled, rotting into small piles of dust which quickly dispersed.<\/p>\n
The pace of the disintegration quickened.\u00a0 The noise increased as the building flew apart.\u00a0 People were shouting now.\u00a0 Quick glances had turned to ugly stares and finger pointing.\u00a0 It was all over in a few moments.<\/p>\n
The final bits of the building were vanishing.\u00a0 The crowd began to dissipate as well. \u00a0The people got in their cars and drove away.\u00a0 Pulling out of the driveway and going their separate ways, they each tuned their radio to their favorite station.\u00a0 This Sunday, they would be listening to their favorite preacher on the radio.\u00a0 They all tuned to the same message, but even in their cars, the whispers continued and no one heard.\u00a0 The preacher read from 1st<\/sup> Corinthians 13.\u00a0 \u201cLove is patient, love is kind . . . does not seek its own . . . does not take into account a wrong suffered . . . bears all things . . . never fails . . .\u201d<\/p>\n When the last car pulled out of the parking lot, it passed a sign at the end of the driveway.\u00a0 Next to the sign, a large wooden cross remained firmly planted in the ground.\u00a0 As the driver sped away, the sign for \u201cBride of Christ Christian Church\u201d disintegrated, leaving only the cross.\u00a0 The cross beam began to sag a little, as if it were bearing the weight of an enormous burden.\u00a0 A small drop of water fell from the top corner of the cross.\u00a0 Like a single tear, it gently streamed to the ground.\u00a0 But the driver of the car didn’t even notice.\u00a0 He was too busy whispering to the other passengers in the car, and tuning his radio to a message he would not hear.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The building stood empty and dark.\u00a0 Here and there, a window was broken, a jagged hole left as evidence of a rock, hurled by a strong arm, powered by passion and malice.\u00a0 All around the building, rocks, shattered glass, broken boards, nails and debris lay as evidence of dastardly deeds.\u00a0 The doors were all locked, 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