Though I have mixed emotions about religious architecture, I like how the architect elevated the cross so very high; so high that it towers over everything else. The whole composition points us upwards, beyond ourselves, to the God of heaven. But the cross reminds us that this same God came near in Christ.

This is a photograph of a portion of an old church in rural South Dakota. As I walked around the little used and poorly cared for building, this image caught my eye. It has a striking graphic quality which, in my mind, stands alone, without any other interpretation. It can simply be enjoyed just for that.

However, as I was composing the photograph, reflecting upon the image, it made me think of the gradual retreat, withdrawal, and blindness of the church of the past few generations. We seem to be solely concerned with what is happening within our own walls; a valid concern to be sure. But there are people outside of our faith communities who need to be invited in; people with real questions, problems, and needs. We, however, seem to be occupied more with building fortresses, finding ways to keep people out, rather than bridges that invite people in.

I speculate that part of this has to do with the politicalization of the church. We have, to borrow from Ed Dobson and Cal Thomas, been blinded by the political might we've gained over the past thirty years. It's time to tear the covering off our windows, replace the pious stained glass with clear, and engage our culture in a conversation about truth, life as it is supposed to be lived, about Jesus.