Imagine Christ showed up at your doorstep one Sunday morning and you invited him to visit your church.
As you pulled into the parking lot you'd point to a certain spot and say, "There's my parking space. It's got my name on the sign."
You might go to the corner of the building and point out the inscription on the cornerstone. "See? My name's written on the dedication."
Once inside the vestibule you could show him the stained glass window featuring your name and tell him, "I paid for that myself."
You might be a little angry to usher Jesus to your seat, only to find a visitor sitting in your pew. So you scowl and gesture to let the uninvited and unwelcome stranger know he and his family need to find seats somewhere else. Then you look back at Jesus and touch the brass plate bearing your name. You apologize to Christ on the visitor's behalf, "The nerve of some people. What's wrong with them?"
During the organ prelude you'd nudge Jesus and whisper, "I guess you know the church didn't budget enough for the new organ, so I made up the difference out of my own pocket. On top of what I'd already given so the choir could buy new robes" and when the offering plate comes around you wink at God's son, "I'm proud to say that I'm one of the biggest tithers here."
As the sermon began you might show Jesus your Bible and point to the cover. "I bought the nicest Bible I could find, and then paid extra to have my name embossed in gold letters on the front. See, I've had it five years and it's still in perfect condition without a mark on it anywhere."
After the service you'd let Jesus know whether or not you liked the sermon and then hurry to the line at the back door, "I want you to meet my pastor. I served on the search committee, but he wasn't my first choice. So I helped negotiate his salary down from what he wanted and ended up saving the church a lot of money. Still, I think we could've got somebody just as good for even less."
Outside again, hurrying Jesus back to your car so you can get to your favorite restaurant before the line gets too long, you skip pointing out the "God Is My Co-Pilot" sticker on the bumper. But as you start the engine you're suddenly curious about his impression and ask Christ, "So what did you think of my church?"
What if Jesus stopped and said, "I saw your parking space, your corner stone, your stained glass window, your pew, your organ, your choir robes and your Bible, and I just shook hands with your pastor. I saw your church but I must've missed something."
Puzzled, you shake your head and shrug, "What did I leave out?"
And Christ turns away from the building, away from your stained glass window, away from your pew and your personal parking space, looks you in the eye and asks, "Where is
your cross?"
