This blue carpet is worn around the edges, pressed into the floor from thousands of feet heavy with dreams, with hurt, with joy, with anger, with determination, with apathy. Whispers from the strings of orchestras have settled into the fibers. Imprinted on the concrete below are the echoes of children’s laughter, too loud to not leave their mark. Silence hovers over the surface with things unsaid.
In this place, people have pointed to themselves as God. Music has been worshiped. Power has been abused. Words of life have been contorted to shape the agenda of the strong and break the backs of the weak. Tears have flooded this floor. Tears of pain. Tears of unspeakable disappointment. Tears of anger and rage. In this place, shouldn’t God be collecting these tears to distribute his justice, abandoning the old building made of stone?
But these are not the only tears that have stained this floor. It has captured and held tears from walking into heaven on earth.
In this place, people have pointed to God. Worship has come through music. Abuse has been powerfully healed. Words of life wake the dead and summon the forgotten. In this space of holiness, when no one stands on a pedestal reserved for the King of Heaven, tears fall freely. Tears that come from realising you are not alone. Tears of relief as old wounds begin to heal. Tears from experiencing love in the places have never seen the light of day. Tears from accepting forgiveness, from giving forgiveness for the first time. Tears of overwhelming joy. Loud tears on the shoulders of friends. Silent tears that fall on open hands. Tears that come from hands lifted and waved to a God who didn’t come to destroy but to restore everything to beauty again, believing that he is who he says he is.
This floor is not sacred, a set apart sacrament of God’s Church. It is a bowl to be filled and spilled out on this city. Worshiping the God of Creation, fill this space with tears of restoration as he calls out of us compassion and justice, less of self-living, more love and generosity towards others, truth replacing the lies, humility instead of pride. If not this, bitter tears of hopelessness reach the brim and fall on the city. It will become a symbol of death, a plague on all humanity coming from a building empty of God himself. A curse on the world.
So call on him, and only him, in this sanctuary, or do not enter it at all.