The Old Village Church

 

 

I stopped at the old village church

The signs of old age were in evidence,

I walked in like I always used to

There were only ten in attendance.

 

I recall there used to be more

But then, it was the only church around,

I remember as I reflected

The preaching there was sound.

 

On Sundays they filled the church

It was a date most villagers kept,

But when the new church started up

It was there most regularly met.

 

They love that preacher’s charisma

“O, he is hot,” I heard them say,

“He doesn’t have to use the Bible

It is the modern way.”

 

They learn a lot about prosperity

And how a man can be rich

And with that kind of prospect

 Many villagers made the switch.

 

 

Now the village church is dying

There are only the aging few,

But they come faithfully every Sunday

And still preach the biblical view.

 

They are referred to as being dead

And too old fashion in their ways,

All that old time Bible stuff

Is not good enough for these days.

 

Like the church at Philadelphia

So too, this old village church,

The numbers may be small unlike others

But they were surely not in the lurch.

 

They were founded on the Rock

Though they appeared of little strength,

Satan in trying to destroy them

Had gone to great lengths.

 

The other church is like Laodicea:

That grew by leaps and bounds,

Yet they are poor, blind and naked

And no sound doctrine can be found.

 

 

As I sat in that old village church

And enjoyed the ministry of the word,

I could not help but contemplate

On those that were so absurd.

 

They left the genuine substance

And went chasing after the shadow,

Right there at that new church

There is nothing else but show.

 

I am not putting down big churches

Just what this one is offering,

And while some appear well off

Most of them are suffering.

 

Here is an open invitation

To return to the old village church

Where there is sound doctrine and ministry

That leaves no one in the lurch.

 

Stewart Russell © September 2019