Church On Sunday

Rare is the group of people – it doesn’t have to be an established community; it can even be a migrating band – that doesn’t set aside place and time for some recollection of the unseen powers beyond human control.  While there may be a forever of arguments about the existence or non-existence of a God (it cannot be scientifically proven), a walk down any important area of towns of any size will provide access to churches or the equivalent, often several of them within a couple of blocks from each other.  The messages heard within may have some things in common but they are often different. 

It’s Sunday today.  The view outside of the apartment window, as has been in a few ways mentioned, is that of the top part of some houses and a little beyond that in the distance buildings poking up between loads of trees going up the side of a ridge that marks the ultimate edge of the river flood plain.  Sticking up right in the middle of the view (from a common angle) is the the top of a church that is about a block away.  Promptly at 10:15 a.m. the church bells clanged to tell people it was time for church.  The bells are kind of tinny in sound, but that doesn’t matter.  They made their announcement. 

Some churches go father than that, seemingly especially Baptist ones.  they buy a mini bus or at least a van and go pick up people who want to attend services but who have no way to get to them short of expensive taxicab rides.  It’s good for many elderly people who do wish to attend some kind of services.  Most any Sunday morning the vehicles can be seen driving around the towns picking up even one person at the likes of the senior citizens’ “old folks’ homes.”  They also haul the disable and Sunday School children as needed.  Someone might call it a waste; but, if it makes people happy, why not do it? 

No one knows what lies ahead. 

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