Sunday, March 22, 2015

The Spot

Standing tall, clothed in stark white, the wall embraced both ceiling and floor at exactly the same time. I couldn't help but see the spot, just behind the piano. I told myself it doesn't matter how clean and white something is, the one spot of darkness can smudge, it can distract.

I felt the creak of the old hymnal as I opened it carefully. The fragrance of the aging trees from which the paper was made and bound together, circulated the pews. We held the books carefully and began the Sunday service with humble voices. I watched a daddy walk up to the piano with little girls surrounding him, his own tiny daughter, his nieces dressed in charm. One of the girls watched people sing as she tried to mouth the words to "I'll Fly Away." In all her daintiness, I imagined her riding by this old church in her adult future, and remembering how we sang, how we Praised, and how we Worshiped.

A Deacon walked to the front with his mother by his side. Just the sight of the two together warms my heart and the lady who sat behind the piano began to play. They all sang, "Through the wind and rain, it had still remained..." and I knew the blood was there. The eldest of the three Testified after the song ended. Then it seemed The Spirit was moving around the room, touching one, then the other. It began raining inside the church, though the wall was still holding the ceiling well. It was still as white and blameless as it always had been, but yet there was a river inside.

Testimonies rose as many offered meek Praise for the sister we all gained at a church event two nights prior. It wasn't long before The Altar was buried underneath the masses of praying souls. I looked up and noticed the mother of the one saved under Friday's moon had blanketed her niece. Others were reaching up and placing their hands on the little girl's back and some began to shout. I smiled, hoping, yet knowing, what was taking place. Another one was added into The Lamb's Book of Life, right then and there.

"Oh what singing, oh what shouting!" the song continued intently.  Hands clapped with such bliss, voices roared loud with purpose, and feet pounded in delight so that even the ones who stayed in, on this raining Alabama Sunday, were sure to feel that The Spirit had moved in a Mighty way underneath that old faded steeple.

I looked back to the wall, remembering the spot...and it was gone. The dark red spot moved toward the frosty window pane as the ladybug clung tightly to the glass. I listened about how longsuffering our Lord is with us. I watched the ladybug walk surely, knowing it had made it in. Others are out in the rain, but she made it in...and in absolute true LORD fashion, the preacher stood in front of the church and began reading in 2 Peter chapter 3...."14 Wherefore, beloved, seeing that ye look for such things, be diligent that ye may be found of him in peace, without spot, and blameless."

That wall was now clean, without distraction, without spot. The preacher stated that sometimes you need to do more than jump in the water to clean up. It's easy to see the dirt when it's placed upon something clean. Today I'm thankful for the cleansing that took place today. I know we all get smudged sometimes but I'm glad to belong to a church where the hungry go to feed, where the thirsty are given drink, and where the muddy are cleaned.

Blessed again to find that HE is never short of Miracles.