A while back I had a dream. It was one that left me shaken, and hurt - and for several months I carried it around without knowing what to do with it. I knew God was trying to share a message, trying to tell me something about life that I couldn't see for myself. But not until recently did I really understand just what it was.
In my dream it had been just another Sunday. Nothing out of the ordinary. I sat alone on a pew near the back of a church, singing along with the rest of the congregation to a familiar worship song. Our voices blended well, and nothing seemed unusual. Men wore their best button-ups, women kept their attire modest and children in line. Typical southern Sunday scene. But just as the last line of "Bringing in the Sheaves" faded away and "Amazing Grace" began, I noticed that there was something strange in the room. Or rather, something strange was missing from the room.
I looked around, still singing, at the faces in the congregation - what I saw shocked me. The people around me seemed sad. No, not sad. Disconnected! As if their minds were running on autopilot and their hearts were sleeping in. Their mouths moved, and their vocal chords were in working order - but their eyes registered blank. They may as well have been singing "...Drove my chevey to the levey..." instead of "...That saved a wretch like me...". Looking up to the choir, I saw the same disinterested expressions looking back at me. What had happened to the passion that had once filled the little church? Why was no one happy to be in God's house, singing to Him, and thanking Him for his mercy?
As I walked slowly behind the others out the front door, I glanced in a mirror and saw myself. What I saw made me stop in my tracks. The same expressions of apathy and distraction that I had seen in the faces around me were there, etched into my face, and staring back at me with dull and lifeless eyes. I jolted - and that was when I realized, it was no dream.
It was really Sunday. I was really in my church. My eyes really held no life, no love, and neither did the eyes around me.
That vision of the church has stuck with me over the years. Many times I have asked God how people could walk in such a continuall shade of grey after seeing the bright Glory of Him. How they could live and breathe every day by His grace, and yet take no pleasure in praising Him for it. The answer was not an easy one, but He has been showing me slowly - and through many trying experiences - how it happens.
I've seen, on more than one occassion, how the Church falls into an in-and-out routine and walks away from their First Love. They forget their origional joy, and accept a quiet acknowledgment of God in its place. Over the next few weeks, I'm going to be blogging about the things He has shown me as they relate to my experience with the apethetic Church. It was not an easy lesson to learn, and one that you can take note of from my experience instead of going through the frustration yourself. If you've read my blog in the past, you know that this is not my usual method of writing - it's all new to me. But I feel that this is a message I can't simply keep to myself, so check back in the coming weeks to see just how a heart of flesh can turn to stone - and how God wants to bring it back to flesh.
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