On a Sunday eve, I sat down in my favorite chair, and listened intently to a Minister's pleas to his congregants. Expecting guidance in exploring the mystery of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, my mind awaited the assuring words that would help me to understand better my responsibilities to myself, and others. At that moment, the words came in a torrent. The anger in the Minister's voice was frightening. What had I done that was so wrong, I wondered? Intently, I listened to gain an understanding of what was being told to me.
My fear gave way to wonderment, as I realized this man could not possibly be speaking to me, but rather about me, and those of my ilk. This was not healing, it was preaching with an axe in hand. Never had I listened to anything so fundamentally un- christian in it's meaning; it's intent. Who are the believers being so counseled by this "man of God", I questioned? Do they, themselves, feel the better when all is finished? Can my God, the God I know of all the people, be the messenger of love, and hope? What is it that has changed?
These are questions we seek to find answers for, are they not?
Now, back to the real source of love in my life....
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