The World – A remnant, August 6, 2025

   There is a remnant rising from the rubble of failed religion with a rallying cry of, "Here I am, send me!" They are in the shadows still, afraid to come into the light in fear of persecution and rejection. Yet, the torches of their fist love are being lit even now. An underground church in every sense of the word. Appearing from the smoldering wreckage of dead systems.   A ragamuffin remnant of rejects that have come from the fire with the oil and the wine of their first love. Eager to pour it into the wounds of a misbegotten generation. They are the Thomas's that have been tormented by fear and self doubt; but they have seen the nail prints–they have touched the wounds in His side!   The streets will be their cathedral. Park benches their pulpits. Sidewalks and coffee shops made sacred altars of worship and prayer. Empty fields their temple. New wine skins of unfiltered, unfettered love. They have escaped the gravity of habitual religion and it's Sunday suicide of passion. They have rediscovered the manger.