the church

once upon a time

there was a man

who built a church

where he could go to worship God

and God could come to visit him

it was a beautiful church

very elaborate

very elegant

every detail perfect

the man made sure it was

for he was a very wealthy man

in those days

and that church saw

many vows made with God

many thanks

and soon

much tears

for the vows made 

were not easy to keep

and the days for which a man's heart bursts with thanks

were few

and soon gone

today the church stands a ruin

of all that it once was

all that the man once dreamed that it could be

is it all ashes and rubble

as if a war has come

as if bombs have been dropped

as if God has turned His Face from it and no longer visits

the son whom He once loved?

not exactly

the man passes the doors

to confess his sins

each sin worse than the one before

for each day is darker

and he no longer sees the way

he no longer feels that God even cares

but God does care

in fact, He weeps over the church He dreams of

not mere stone and mortar, mind you

but over the man

over the ashes and rubble

of a life

unsaved by religion

of a dream


you see, God does not dwell

in modern times

in buildings made by men

He desires a different home

He desires your heart

He longs to touch the hurting

to heal the sick

to make the lame walk

the blind see

He longs to speak forgiveness



He longs to once again walk this earth

in the flesh

a building is a building

however beautiful it may be

it is still stagnate

without life

without soul

without the full potential

to become the church He envisions

He wants you, Mel

all you see is ashes and rubble

all you feel is a ruin

even of what you once were

but God has a dream

it was a beautiful creation, you see

very elaborate

very precise

very elegant


every detail perfect

He made sure that it was

after all

He is Perfection

and this was His creation

He can create nothing less

everything was exactly as He dreamed

the small hand fit within His and clasped His tightly just as He had hoped

they walked together daily

in the cool, sweet-scented garden

breath of His breath

a heart formed after His own

His special breathed-upon




perfect, that is

except for one thing


history tells

of the betrayal

of the nails and spear

and crooked, twisted crown of thorns

of the spit and the flogging and the blasphemy

of the Blood and water flowing from the wounded side

of the cross

of the price

a fallen man would cost

and a loving God

would pay

to redeem him


why, why, why?

I don't understand


why would a perfect God love us — us?

why would He come down from heaven

to walk this dirty, sin-torn, dying earth

for sick, lame, blind, demon-possessed wrecks?

I held the nail, too

that pierced His flesh

I thrust the spear

I broke His Heart

it doesn't make any sense





the dream

that He sees

when He looks at the frail, weak, lifeless, hopeless, terrible ruin

known as Mel Gibson

a Church



very elaborate

very elegant

every detail perfect

the impossible made possible

for He is the Redeemer

of broken things

He still creates

beauty from dust

perfection from formless, lifeless clay

He still breathes upon men

He still walks this earth

He still heals

and mends

and sets free

and makes blind men see

and you are the church

He wants

your heart the place where He longs to dwell

you are filthy

and broken

unfit for a King

much like a stable

the place where He chose to be born

once upon a time

God formed you in the womb

and as He knit you together

as He breathed life into your tiny lungs

He dreamed

that this perfect little creation

who would someday betray Him

would know His Love

His Life

His Touch

His Healing

His Forgiveness

His Hope

His Dream

we pray you will

-the accomplice