To the Seven Churches, Write . . .
 
1. South Lancaster — Christmas

"I know your deeds, your hard work . . . yet I hold
 this against you:  You have forsaken your first love"

 The square brick building is vaguely New England
 with bland alcoves, arched ceiling, corner
 windows framing only pines and sky —
 no distractions for these serious faces
 whose hard work built this place to pray.
 They soon replaced the architect's framework cross
 hanging behind the pulpit with a drab pipe organ.

 At Christmas, wreaths and boughs,
 ribbons and lights line the alcoves;
 advent candles flicker; banners
 proclaim "Peace on Earth," "Goodwill," "Rejoice";
 children sing as angels, shepherds, mother.
 The cross is still missing
 but at Christmas the Child returns.
 

2. Lowville

"I know your afflictions and your poverty"

 it's tiny
 hardly seating sixty
 hidden by the towering Methodist church next door

 even the short steeple,
 making sure that all who drive past
 know it's not a community center,
 is an afterthought

 the youngest male
 is fifty-five
 leading each week a dozen or so
 grey or bald
 barely kneeling before two flags
 and an open bible
 praying fervently for the absent ill
 

3. Central Alberta, Canada

 "To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna"

 Standing outside the church on this fall Sabbath,
 I can't help notice the fields of wheat and barley
 interspersed with canola, oats, and alfalfa
 stretching in every direction to the horizon
 and even beyond — east through Saskatchewan
 and Manitoba, south through Montana and Wyoming,
 a harvest almost beyond imagination.

 In spring the fields are filled with harrows and seeders.
 In summer, irrigation wheels like immense insects
 brood over the growing grain. And now combines
 scour the fields while railway cars wait at every siding.
 Inside, I faintly hear the familiar hymn:
 "Far and near the fields are teaming."
 But the church never plants, never waters, never reaps.
 

4. Hong Kong Chapel

"I know  . . . that you are now doing more than you did at first"

 Filipina maids, in Sabbath finery,
 arrive early, crowding the front rows,
 chattering with friends missed for a week.

  (It's been refurbished.  Peeling paint , water . . .

 Chinese old folks from the retirement villa
 hobble in and huddle in the middle,
 patiently waiting for the translator.

  . . . stains are gone.  Chill winter winds no longer . . .

 Malaysian, Thai, and Korean students
 arrive on time, sing loudly from the back.

  . . . whistle through warped, rusted frames. . . .

 Faculty in white shirts or tailored dress
 lead from the platform or stand watch in back.

  . . . Graffiti on pews has been sanded out . . .

 Local students in T-shirts and designer jeans
 trickle in from battling slow bus routes
 to fill the empty rows as the sermon starts.

  . . . and attendance doubled in a few years.)

 A truly pan-Asian church with youth and age:
 so many strands yet so little unity,
 each suspicious, each jealous of the other.
 

5. Singapore

"You have a reputation of being alive,
 but you are dead!  Wake up!"

 The lofty ceiling echoes
 with murmured prayers and melodies.
 Then the fiery sermon bursts forth
 proclaiming — go forth to all nations.

 Above the dozens of bowed black heads
 floats a glistening dove, opalescent
 in the midst of red-orange flames,
 hovering above a blue-green sea:
 the emblem of peace for a hurried world.

 But it's just a stained glass dove,
 stained glass flames, stained glass sea.
 And the fervent words which fill the room
 are never heard by the thousands who pass
 the fenced-in church on Ballister Road.
 

6. Chiang Mai, Thailand

"I know that you have little strength"
 
 After 50 kilometers of narrow roads
 past coconut palms and paddy fields,
 we parked in a dusty lot beside the church.
 Startled by dozens of sandals and slippers
 neatly paired on the sidewalk and steps,
 we slipped off our shoes, padded up the steep steps
 to worship in stocking feet that Sabbath among new-found friends.

 We returned that afternoon past temples and shrines,
 past villages with a spirit house in the corner of every yard,
 past shorn monks in saffron-red robes,
 past tourists traps — elephant baths, paper umbrella stands, silver shops —
 into a bustling city with markets and shops,
 hotels and guest houses, nightclubs and bars
 hawking beer and souvenirs, sex and drugs for the tourist trade.

 What can a friendly barefoot Christian do?
 

7. Berrien Springs — Easter Sabbath

"You say 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth,
 and do not need a thing'"

 This Adventist cathedral
 is vibrant with sound.
 Banners, blue and purple and gold,
 give thanks for enduring love.
 Hosannah!

 Chorus, trombones, trumpets,
 silver pipes reverberate.
 Hanging bronze lamps,
 Paneled roof and rafters tremble.
 Sing Hallelujah!

 Two thousand voices harmonize,
 anthems resound
 shaking gothic gold-glass windows
 rattling rainbow, clouds, and stained-glass King.
 Joyful, joyful, we adore you!

 This clear-eyed people,
 generations of the young and wise
 clothed in Sabbath best,
 need nothing more
 in this sound-rich sanctuary.
 Christ the Lord is risen today!

by Charles H. Tidwell, Jr, in Spectrum:  The Journal of the Association of
        Adventist Forums, 28.1 (2000), 34-35.