It was Monday.
The big church was empty, silent, dim. Light filtered through the high windows but could not penetrate into the recesses. There was no sound. No movement. But the presence of God was there. And on the cross high on the wall at the back of the church the figure of Jesus hung. Alone.
The church was empty and still. And then women from the church came to clean. As they worked they talked about the recent luncheon. They were somewhat disappointed with the table settings, and they all agreed the fruit punch that was served was a disaster. They were still talking about that as they left. And the church became still and empty. But the presence of God was there. And on the cross the figure of Jesus hung. Alone, with parched lips.
It was Wednesday.
Nothing moved and it was silent in the church. And then a workman came carrying a ladder and tools to repair a light fixture. He plugged a radio into his ear to have something to listen to in the silence and went to work. The pastor came in as he finished and inspected the job and the workman handed him a bill. The two began arguing loudly about the bill as they left the church. And a peaceful silence returned. The presence of God was there. On the cross hung the figure of Jesus, betrayed for a handful of coins.
It was Thursday.
All through the morning and into the afternoon the silence stretched on. Then a car stopped in front of the church and a woman got out. She hurried up the steps and pulled on the doors. The sound rattled hollowly in the church. But the doors were locked and she went away slowly. The people in the church kept the doors locked to keep out thieves. But the presence of God was there. And on the cross hung the figure of Jesus, alone; not like on Calvary, where he hung with thieves on either side.
No one came this day and it was still and peaceful in the church. At mid-afternoon a storm swept through the area with a brilliant flash of lightning penetrating every nook of the church, and a crash of thunder echoing and re-echoing throughout the church. But the presence of God was there, and in the instant of the flash of lightning the figure of Jesus could be seen on the cross. His eyes appeared to have closed.
It was the weekend.
And silence filled the church. But then bells began ringing in the church tower. The sound filled the church and told the people it was time to come visit with God. And the people came. Some overslept and were late, and others had to leave before the visiting hours were over because they had more important things to do. But they came and greeted one another, and talked about the things that had happened to them during the week and they joined in prayer reading the words that had been written for them. Then they hurried away to enjoy the pleasures of the weekend. And the church was silent once more. The presence of God was there, and from the cross the figure of Jesus looked down. Forsaken. Abandoned.
It was Monday.
A deep, dim, breathless quiet filled the church. Nothing moved. No one came. The presence of God was there, and on the cross Jesus waited. Alone, in infinite patience.
By William Snyder
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