My church Sometimes I find there is more wisdom here in the moldy crackled walls of dirty carpets and plastic chairs and the taste of hot dogs split in three so there’s enough to share than in a thousand gleaming halls. Sometimes I find there is more love here in the dress bought with everyone’s hands of ripped fabric and whispers of good will and the eyes of a teary groom with trembling hands and empty pockets than in a million sparkling diamonds. Sometimes I find there is more hope here in the boxes of pizza we can afford of greasy laughter and cheap Bibles and the feel of calloused fingers caressing wet cheeks and hungry bellies than in any dazzling speech. Sometimes I find there is more courage here in the way the children laugh as they throw the clay with no Christmas presents waiting back home and small bruised eyes heal from stinging sights and many memories than in the best Homeric epic. Sometimes I find that the face of Christ is shown ever more in the hospital floors you sleep on in the empty fridge you stare at in the dusty road you cough through in the sewage smell you inhale day in and day out on your way to church than in any other place I’ve seen. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading...