So the church I have always attended with great reverence has turned from the house of God into a mere beautiful comfortable place where, to put it into modern terms, “my spiritual needs are met” and where my acquaintances whose company I enjoy go to as well.
I believe that if I get in trouble and can’t go to church, my Lord and Shepherd will put aside all His work and ninety-nine percent of His sheep and will hurry to me to share the meal with me, bless my house and make Himself an altar out of my heart so that nothing could ever separate us.
Now he was looking at the dome with a cross, glittering in the sun, and waiting for death to come. But it was slow in coming, though a tenfold heroin overdose should have caused a quick death. Meanwhile, death was still not going to take him, and he was gazing down at the golden cross on the church dome and couldn’t tear himself away from the view.