Stephen Beam - George Fox and the Bridge to Eternity Church

George Fox and the Bridge to Eternity Church

Stephen Beam

Copyright 201 Stephen Beam

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9781080008773

DEDICATION

To Jesus and his Gospel of the Kingdom of Heaven

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

For my wife s loyalty.

1 The Bridge to Eternity Church

George Fox tightened the shoelaces on his loose-fitting gray sneakers. He wanted to make them secure and snug against his feet. He was dressed and ready to go to the church his cousin Gil suggested they visit. It was close by, only two or three miles away. Why Gil wanted to visit this church he hadn't a clue, other than to compare preaching styles.

Some of their friends believed church-hopping was a peculiar hobby for a person living in a secular culture, but this was normal for Gil. George liked to accompany Gil in church-hopping from time to time. Both of them were theology geeks. Rather than sports, technology, or some other hobby of widespread interest, they liked studying obscure Bible passages. It was the spirit that motivated them, their love of God, and speculation on the Great Beyond drove them forward.

To enter through the doors of a church was invading the sacred space of that particular congregation and entering into whatever level of spiritual discernment that particular congregation had attained. Personally, George gave up on churches in the classical sense, be they denominational or non-denominational, the latter of which was usually some variation of a Baptist church. So George didn't have a regular church home, he preferred the donut shop a block away. That was his sacred spot, a meeting place that on any Sunday mysteriously attracted misfit spiritual explorers.

George was a spiritual misfit because he was seriously religious. Serious in his love for God and the desire to unlock every gate on the path to God's eternal domain of truth. He discovered on his previous jaunt of churchgoing that he took God more seriously than most of those in the pews, or so it seemed to him. In his teens, he'd strayed down a few paths that made his parents weep, but he corrected his ways in reasonably short order. These experiences carved out a deeper appreciation of God's love and forgiveness. He understood Luke 7: 47, "... to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little." George learned early on to walk on better paths, helped along by his expanded awareness of God's mercy.

George figured his cousin could arrive at any moment. He would rather go to the donut shop instead of listening to a dull sermon, but he loved his cousin Gil so he would go with him. The donut shop would still be there next Sunday.

He heard the loud pipes of a classic Camero pull up and park on his cracked driveway. This outing could turn out to be inspirational; he shouldn't be so pessimistic! Perhaps this church was exceptional and escaped the pitfalls of theologically uninspiring and unimaginative preaching. George believed preaching a poor message eroded Christianity's drawing power. Why listen to something so archaic and infused with obscure metaphors it departs from any known reality, thus rendering it powerless?

There was a knock on the door, and George opened it. Gil stood outlined by sunlight in the doorway, smiling and energetic. "Are you ready to go?" Gil asked, then glanced down at his watch.

"Do you have time for coffee? It just takes a minute."

Again Gil tipped his wrist and looked at his watch. "You know, I think we better go. It's almost time."

"You can't wait a few minutes so we can arrive after everyone's finished greeting each other?" George smiled at him as he said this. His cousin looked at him with such genuine innocence and enthusiasm it stole away his desire to stall any longer. "Okay. Okay. Let's go."

Gil smiled as he walked towards his 67 Camero bright racing red and fully restored. The paint sparkled like a new car just driven off the dealers lot. Gil turned around and asked, Wheres your Bible cuzz? Did you want to bring it?

Ill use the pew Bible. I like them better. Its usually the translation the pastor uses, which makes it easier to follow along.

The Camero rumbled to life. George loved the sound. Whatever Gil did to tweak the exhaust, it gave the impression of endless, effortless power. The first stoplight they came to a young kid in a new Dodge Challenger stopped next to them, both cars first in line. The kid revved his motor like he wanted to race, but Gil just smiled and ignored the challenge.

George looked at his cousin, and for a split second Gil thought his cousin was going to say go-for-it, but he didnt. Instead, he said, You like to church-hop. What makes you do that? Do you think theres a perfect church out there or one thats just better than the one youre at now?

Yeah, Gil said.

Yeah what? A perfect church or a church better than your current one?

I think a perfect one.

Really? It sounds like youre a church addict, always looking for that final fix that will set things straight forever.

Not exactly. The perfect one will be the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, and when I find that special church, Ill know it. Itll be like coming home, the air filled with spiritual fragrance. The people tuned into the Holy Spirit, and love will flow from above and fill everyones heart. The Heavenly Father enshrined in the heart of every member of the congregation, all of them prepared to go out and change the world with agape love.

You do know that wont happen. Its a dream you have a beautiful dream. I know you have your feet planted solidly on the ground. You have a job. You are careful to take care of business. You keep grounded. Or am I mistaken? Have you departed for la-la land?

Were almost there, Gil said, checking out the traffic on all sides. He turned left down a small street, then made a right into the churchs parking lot, which was about three-quarters full. Some people were still walking from their cars over to the church. It wasnt a large church, but it was nicely kept up. The grass trimmed, flower-filled planters ran colorfully alongside the buildings p e r i meter. And were here, Gil said, as he shut down the Cameros engine.

The church bell rang out the hour. The people walking towards the entrance were friendly, nodding their heads hello with a cheerful smile, or verbally greeting George and Gil with a good morning. What is the name of this church? George asked Gil. Ive never seen this church in the whole time Ive been in the area.

"I can understand that. It's in an odd location, like a small island floating amongst a sea of tract homes. Anyway, the church is called the Bridge to Eternity Church. I like the name. It's a name that suggests a concept."

"And what's that concept?" George smiled as he asked.

"Well, to me, the name evokes a transient feeling to our Earthly life. A bridge is a way to cross over to the other side. That's a bridge's purpose. You don't build a home on a bridge. A bridge is there for one reason and one reason only."

George spoke before Gil uttered another word, "A bridge is used as a temporary convenience to get somewhere else. So, the church is not your home; it serves a single function, which is to get you from where you are to where you'd rather be. Nice heavenly imagery, cuzz."

They walked up the steps to the entrance where an elderly lady greeted them and handed them a program leaflet. "Welcome," the elderly women said. Her genuine happiness at seeing George and Gil made them feel comfortable as they walked into the chapel searching for a couple of empty spaces. The congregation wasn't wholly seated yet; they were still greeting one another, shaking hands and making small talk. After a few minutes, everyone was seated. George and Gil found some space in the center row pew at the end of the bench. It was a good spot, no need to step on toes or squeeze past anyone.