The other day I spoke to a Muslim girl at work about fasting ect. She mentioned that, in varsity, her Christian friends used to fast with them during their month of fasting. During the week I saw a picture of a dry-cleaner with a sign that says “If you are unemployed and need a clean shirt for a job interview, we will clean it for you for free.” Also, on Monday, the assistant where I work came to work and told us her daughter, who is addicted to TIK, broke into her house and stole all her food (even her own baby’s food!) and now she doesn’t have any food in her house. The girl who works with me came up with the idea to help her by buying her the basics, like rice, pap, meat ect.

For me this is the church. Not the denomination. Not the way we pray. The way we hold each other up and defend each other’s backs when times are hard we need a friend.


1 Response to “Church”

  1. 1 Thinus Julie 17, 2011 om 3:10 nm

    This is from Brian Mclaren’s book The Secret Message of Jesus.

    My friend Tony Campolo tells a true story that also serves as a great parable in this regard. He was in another time zone [from other accounts, it was Honolulu] and couldn’t sleep, so well after midnight he wandered down to a doughnut shop where, it turned out, local hookers also came at the end of a night of turning tricks. There, he overheard a con­versation between two of them. One, named Agnes, said, “You know what? Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’m gonna be thirty-nine.” Her friend snapped back, “So what d’ya want from me? A birth­day party? Huh? You want me to get a cake and sing happy birthday to you?” The first woman replied, “Aw, come on, why do you have to be so mean? Why do you have to put me down? I’m just sayin’ it’s my birthday. I don’t want anything from you. I mean, why should I have a birthday party? I’ve never had a birth­day party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?”

    When they left, Tony got an idea. He asked the shop owner if Agnes came in every night, and when he replied in the affir­mative, Tony invited him into a surprise party conspiracy. The shop owner’s wife even got involved. Together they arranged for a cake, candles, and typical party decorations for Agnes, who was, to Tony, a complete stranger. The next night when she came in, they shouted, “Surprise!”-and Agnes couldn’t believe her eyes. The doughnut shop patrons sang, and she began to cry so hard she could barely blow out the candles. When the time came to cut the cake, she asked if they’d mind if she didn’t cut it, if she could bring it home-just to keep it for a while and savor the moment. So she left, carrying her cake like a treasure.

    Tony led the guests in a prayer for Agnes, after which the shop owner told Tony he didn’t realize Tony was a preacher. He asked what kind of church Tony came from, and Tony replied, “I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning.” The shop owner couldn’t believe him. “No you don’t. There ain’t no church like that. If there was, I’d join it. Yep, I’d join a church like that.”

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