Builders of Walls

By John Kernan

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     Following the Babylonian captivity the Israelites rebuilt the wall of Jerusalem with the blessing of God. They wanted shelter and protection. We who are in the restoration movement have followed their example and even surpassed them. We must be the greatest wall builders in religious history. And our walls are not always with the blessing of God.

     We build walls to keep others out of the fold and to keep ourselves in, like the infamous Berlin wall. We built a wall to keep out instrumental music. But we could still hear the instrument. Some of our people began to climb up the wall to view the piano and organ, so we built the wall higher. We could still hear the instrument, so we soundproofed the wall. Now, we figured, we could relax and the troublesome instrument could not cause any more trouble.

     But what's this? Hands on top of the wall! In one a Sunday school quarterly. Another drops an orphanage over the wall. Other hands appear, laden with Bible college textbooks, communion cups, "located ministry." Obviously we cannot allow such outsiders to disturb our complacency. So we put barbed wire around the wall and inlay broken and jagged bits of glass into the top. Now we'll be protected and can go on in our comfortable way.

     Suddenly our afternoon rest is disturbed by a hubbub. There are shouts for help and cries of anguish. Mixed with these calls we notice an unnerving rumbling. We pick up a word here and there: missionary society, congregational sponsorship, independence, direct-support, living-link, organized, unorganized, disorganized, home comes first! And still we hear the insistent, frightened shrieks of people slipping down the muddy slopes to hell.

     We cannot stand it any longer. "Build another wall. Put it further away. Don't let those people get too close to us. We cannot have all of that racket disturbing our meditations." Behind two walls, surely we will be safe!

     Now what's happening? Airplanes overhead. Bombs dropping. As they explode they spill out tracts and magazines. Eldership, tithing, fellowship, kitchens in church buildings, ministers, state of the dead, the millennium, speaking in tongues, the name of the church. And a host of other subjects.

     "How did all of this junk get in?" we shout. "We'll be contaminated. Put on a roof. Keep this stuff out. Keep it out!" On goes a roof. Now we are snug and cozy in our double-walled, sound-proofed, tin-roofed truth shelter, surrounded by barbed-wire. We stand up in the middle of our sanctuary and shout to the world, "We have the truth. If you want it you must come to us. We, and we only, have the truth."

     The world, passing by outside the walls, cannot hear us. The world gives a puzzled look at our strange structure,

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shakes its head, and moves on. The world does not want to share our dank, dark and dreary dungeon. The world wants the freshness of Christ, the light of Christ, the truth of Christ.

     John Kernan lives at 11 Jasmay Place, Nahoon Valley, East London, C.P., Republic of South Africa.