Once upon a Sunday, Jesus and his disciples drove into Colorado Springs, easily one of America's holy cities. They wanted to worship the Father with other believers. As they stepped into the Welcome Center of one of Outreach magazine's 100 Most Influential Churches, Jesus' eyes grew wild, feral. The disciples stepped back from the Son of Man.
Jesus walked straight to the coffee bar where folks were socially networking and building faux community and pitched all the condiments on the tiled floor. Then he threw a glass carafe at the liquid plasma TV on the wall scrolling how to "do life together." Not even taking a breath, he turned and ran to the God's Men display, complete with Braveheart sword in the middle. Jesus took the broadsword and totally demolished the books and DVD curriculum that had been painstakingly arranged in relevant stacks. One of the elders directed the security guards to "move in!" The leader of Growing Spiritual Champions began shielding the children behind her skinny jeans, screaming "Who the hell do you think you are?"
Breathless, Jesus wept: "You're lost; lost, I tell you! Tell the leaders to pastor; search and find the old words. For it is written My house shall be known as a house of prayer. You pray and beg God to "show up"? Well, I'm here and I hate this!"
[Notes - As I read this passage this morning, it seemed so remote, so sterile. The thought struck me that unless we can "see" this passage in a way that brazenly offends much of what we currently hold dear, then our lips are near, but our hearts are far away. There was no intent to translate, but rather paraphrase "cotton-patch" style.]