You have to ask yourself: would John the Baptist feel welcome at my church?

At which point you think–no, I don’t have to ask myself that.

But would he? Would Jeremiah? Ezekiel? Jesus?

I think most of these dudes would see past our lattes and our church bulletins. They would see past our Potemkin selves. They would look for the altar, look for the shekinah glory.

In a word: God.

God lives in the most degraded conditions of life. He is the one who coaxes life from the cracks of sidewalks. He loves every sparrow.

For three hundred years Christianity was the life surviving in the cleft of the rock. Then when it became legal it quickly became fluffy–corrupt–excessive.

And men went to the deserts to find God.

They were a wacky bunch, prone to mysticism and visions.

I was going to call this post, church in the loneliest places but autocorrect (God) changed it to loveliest.

He knows better than I–
The loneliest and the loveliest
Are so often found together.

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