Field of Dreams in reverse

Uh, God. It's me, Billy. You know, THAT one again. It's still dark outside, but you being you, I figured we could talk. We can talk, can't we? It's been a while, an, er, short while I'll admit, since we talked. Nah. Since you talked. I talked to you most of the night. I remember distinctly asking you for a boat load of stuff, all for the new church, of course.

We need money. We need contractors. We need contractors who don't need much money. We need a big ol' honking color printer, a bunch of things in the sanctuary like space (which is what they call rooms on all those highfalutin TV shows Mary watches), and we need a big ol' honking light system, Mac system, projection system, sound system, carpet, roof repair, wall repair, window repair, phone system and I'd like a new Saints shirt. That last one was just me, by the way Lord. But I figure you already had that figured out.

We also need, time. Lots and lots of time. Daylight come and I want to go home, kind of thing. 

We need people. Lots and lots of people. And lots and lots more. We need them in all types and sizes and shapes and colors and genders and political types. We need them to work, and to teach, and the seek and to work and to pray and to read and to teach some more. We need youth. We need children. We need youth who will help children.

We need.

Like a car without and engine, we need a tad bit of repair, Father. It's me, Billy. You know, THAT one again. 

I keep walking the building Father and seeing your handiwork, seeing where you've been, seeing where you would like to be again, but Jehovah, it's like, well, sometime or other the building began to get so old someone forgot to let you back in, and the next thing anyone knew, the Shekinah glory, the white-light at night type of shiny, your shiny, no, YOUR SHINY just up at left. Or so it seemed. Maybe you were just waiting for someone to say, "come on down," or some such.

In any case, we, I, us have begun to sense you in the corners, feel you in the parlor, seek you in the morning and follow your ways up and down the stairs of this old monolith, this beauty that needs a touch of a facelift.

You are here. You are amongst us.

Right? You are, right?

So, what do WE do about YOU? That's really what I needed to know this staggeringly long morning. What do you want us to do? What must we do next? 

Paint? Clean? Paint the clean walls? Ask for more stuff?

What's next?

You know more than anyone how impatient I am. You know that waiting on the Lord isn't on my bucket list. In fact, waiting might cause me to kick the bucket list.

But I'm trying. Lord, I pray for Sione and Haley this morning, on account they have to put up with me and that's a tall, tall task. Just ask Mary. She'll tell you, and them, and complete strangers.

We need.
That's the bottom line.

Like paupers asking for coins, we need. Lord wouldn't it be something if someone out there just up and decided they would write a check or a gazillion to Carrollton United Methodist Church? You and the janitor know this money, the printer, the office furniture, the data system, all the rest are not for me. What do I need with money? 

Well, yeah. Forgot about that stuff. But you know what I mean. This is stuff to help bring a new culture to an old Gospel, to bring those who are broken to the one who fixes the broken, to seek the least, the lost and the lonely and tell them about the Fixer -- this man named Jesus.

Father, I'm trying. WE are trying. 

But we need help. Your help would be wonderful. But the way I have all this figured is that your folks, what do you call it all fancy like, uh, uh, oh, your BODY OF CHRIST can help us just as well. Folks with bank accounts that have big strings of numbers, folks with equipment they could write off on their taxes as gifts to non-profits, folks who ARE contractors and window fixers and even great prayer warriors. They could come.

The greatest movie in history told me that if you build it, they will come. 

Here on South Carrollton, oh Lord, they must come so we can built it.

Signing off, Lord. It's Billy. You know, THAT one again.