Down a street you’ll never walk, around a corner you’ll never turn, and up a hill you’ll never climb, there exists a church. Don’t feel bad you’ll never make it, though. No one has in years. No one has come to repaint its walls, no one has come to mow its lawn, and no one has come to maintain its spirit. You see, for years, no hymns have been sung, no sins have been confessed, and no prayers have been offered. Some, if they ever made the journey to the church, would say that God left this place a long time ago.

But maybe its all still there. Maybe the songs and prayers still bounce off the chipped paint on the crumbling walls. Maybe its just as full of life as it was all of those years ago. Because maybe when that kind of spirit enters a building, it never really leaves. Or maybe that spirit was there before the thing was even built. Maybe it’s still a home for lost souls. Maybe it’s still a house of God.

Or maybe its just an old building you’ll never see.