The Empty Old Church Re-Opens

For over a year quiet it lay, the big gray stones in the walls framing what seemed more empty tomb than church-- the stained glass windows did not sing out their beauty for no one was there to hear... well, God, as He's everywhere, but not his priests, nor sextons nor ushers, and no worshipers as they were all sheltering at home. But isn't a church [or temple or mosque] the home of believers? Why did they all stay away when the terrible storm plagued all parts of an unprepared world? When Jesus slept in the boat as a tempest plagued his men, men who saw his work every day, who knew his power, his other- worldly love, his lonely communion with his Father, yet still they feared, like children terrified of the dark. And then in their cowardice they scolded Jesus for falling asleep! For leaving them naked to the brutal wind and stinging rains... and his heart must have cracked a bit to see that his chosen ones were still blind and deaf and dumb. Yet our church, our lovely stone church built in the Anglican style of the last century when faith was still central to most lives, welcomed us, the handful or two of mostly aging or old worshipers who came to talk to God as one, to sing to God as a single voice, to listen for His ever so quiet Word, just a whisper, so easy to miss...