A church is supposed to be a home for the broken. It is supposed to be a place of heartfelt mourning, enlightenment, joyous gratitude, and healing. But instead it has become a place where people come to dance on the grave of Jesus Christ, celebrating a cross instead of His teachings, and ignoring His life to rather focus on His death and torture as a means to use Him as a sin-mule, piling on continued debauchery and self-centeredness.

It has become an echo chamber of prideful amens of self gratification, of those who feel more privileged and special than those who didn’t attend. It has become a place of festering heart and soul viruses to spread and contaminate others with similar indoctrination, losing compassion for anyone who sees God differently.

Therefore the True Church has become every common couch where friends come to mourn the suffering of another. The True Church has become the everyday checkout line, where an exhausted, aching, underpaid and secretly suffering employee smiles while helping someone bag their groceries, even though that’s not her job. The True Church has become every street conversation between two strangers waiting for a crosswalk, discussing good ethics and common sense.

The True Church has become every music festival where people of every sort come together to celebrate poetry that challenges the mind, heart, and spirit. And the True Church has become every small man who travels here and there, as someone who is brave enough to speak what needs to be said so a portion of the world with ears might be healed.