If you come to the building early enough on Monday (you have to be early, things get cleaned up around here pretty fast.) you will notice that there are most always little handprints on the front door. The young ones are not tall enough to reach the push bar, and leave behind the marks. You may think that they are a stain but I come to understand that those smudges are prints of a living church. Children at times may seem like a hindrance to worship. They fidget, they fuss, they might make a mess. You may think that baby’s cry is an annoyance but it really is the heartbeat of the church. Without those cries, a church is beginning to die. Show me a church with no sounds of children, no marks of little hands and I will show you a church that will soon be fighting for it’s very life. In those children are the faith of the future, the love of the pres...
The Preacher sought to find delightful words and to write words of truth correctly.