Please note that this poem is not written about the church in the image you see below. It was simply an inspiration to write this prose regarding life, death and salvation.
The echoes of an empty church resonate with the cries of those whose spirits wish they had visited but just once to hear the Good News of Jesus Christ. Who was it who invited me? What was worth more than my own soul that I could not visit on that day?
The echoes of an empty church remind those of the busy present of a day once filled with life — and the Spirit of God which moved men to tears, moved families to their knees and moved all closer to Jesus.
The echoes of an empty church are filled with the sounds which are savory sweet to God: Shouts of victory, cries of joy in brokenness, praise and worship to the King of Kings, and the distant “amens” for those who have repented, for the prayers of the thousands who interceded for years, believing.
The echoes of an empty church reflect the reality of an empty church. A world without fellowship, no home for the saints, no flock to lead, no shepherd to help find the safe path. An empty church is a dead church.
Saints! Saints! Rise and fill the house of prayer! Rise and fill the house of praise! Take by the arm those around you who run to their destruction, who leap into the flames of hell blindfolded, bringing them into a place of light and safety. The filled church. The fulfilled body.
As the end of the age draws nigh, listen closely for the voice of Jesus calling from within. The persistent knocking on your heart — like a great wooden door which has been barred for years — will only grow more urgent as the shadows fall on yet another day.
You are blessed to have been given this very moment in time. Listen, answer, and follow the voice of Jesus – the only One who can turn cold, watery echoes into a symphonic masterpiece of joy.