"What makes a church, Grandad?" he asked
Wondering eyes awide,
"Is it the steeple tall and proud
or the cross that stands astride?"
"Is it the windows brightly lit
With sunshine streaming through?
Or is it the preacher's able voice
Talking of faith so true?"
"Tell me, Grandad, I want to know
'Cos when I grow up I'm sure -
I'll build a church that God will love
And I'll be proud of it too."
Grandad smiled as they walked along,
Glad for Sammy's concern.
He too loved the church of God
But the boy had much to learn.
"A church is not in the building, Son,
In neither the wood nor the stone
The church is the people gathered there
When their hearts turn to God alone.
"When His people stand for righteousness
When they follow the path He's shown
Then God Himself will build them up
Into a church He will call His own.
"And He will dwell in that building
Not made with human hands
When the people give Him residence
And obey all of His commands.
"God's church is a living Body
Full of grace and love and light.
Ready to go where the Shepherd leads
Be it day, or dead of night."
Sammy listened quietly
And knew the words were true.
"Well, I belong to Jesus, so
He lives in my heart too!"
Grandad nodded kindly,
"You must listen to Him, Son.
He'll tell you what He wants of You
And show you how it's done."
And when they reached the chapel
At the end of their way
The Pastor shook their hands and said
"Welcome to church today."
Sammy smiled at Grandad
And said to the Pastor thus -
"Oh, we're already welcomed, sir,
We brought some church with us."
Julie Seeto 1997
Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com
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