There was once a broken-down old mainline/sideline/offline church traveling on the road from yesterday to tomorrow when it fell among postmodern culture. It was stripped of its place in society, leaving it beat up, left behind,
and more than half dead.
Now by chance there was a doctoral student going down the road who passed by on the other side. “I’ve got papers due, and besides, that dead old denomination hasn’t got any life left in it.”
In the same way a prophetic pastor came to the place, saw the broken-down church, and whispered to himself, “O Lord, let me retire before it finally dies.”
But then a complete nobody, who didn’t know enough not to get involved, and who had failed the Jesus course, found the church and had compassion on it. She/he bound up its wounds, pouring on the oil of hope and the wine of Christ’s blood, poured out the oil of forgiveness of sin; then set it on his/her own beast and took it to a place
where it could re:flect and re:fresh and find healing. He/she said to the keeper,
“This poor old church is almost dead. It may or may not have anything to say to a new world; but make it as comfortable as you can , spend whatever you have to, until I come back…”
Found in Leonard Sweet, So Beautiful