New, I enter a working church. They build, send, invite, prepare. Busy as they are focused, they direct all who come in.
“Go to the church down the street for the service.”
I oblige. Familiar faces from every denomination are found as I enter. The Pentecostals are mingling with the Baptists. The Presbyterians are creating order. The unchurched are welcomed by the non-denominationals. The unsaved are embraced by the Nazarenes. Every leader seems to be searching as they work to bring us together. A common thread runs throughout.
Through murmurs, I hear that someone has died. Not knowing exactly who it was, my attention is focused on the care they’ve all taken to remember this person.
In the front, most central portion of the huge cathedral is an empty chair positioned high above the crowds. A candle burns where the deceased would have sat. Together we wait for further instructions.
Awakened, these scenes from my slumber flood my memory.
“It’s Jesus. The chair belongs to him. Today it sits empty, but his light burns on through his bride.”
Our cause for congeniality is our common interest in the one who died. Shine.