This morning I was thinking about what the first church might have been like, and my thoughts brought up both grave and exhilarating images.

Was the first church in a garden where the peace and glory of God lifted a person into sublime serenity, forestalling any and all doubts and fears; or, was the first church two humans, in a wilderness, cooking food over an open fire; and in a divinely appointed moment, looked into each other’s faces, shared a feeling of gratitude for the food, and recognized themselves in each other?

Perhaps, the first church started with humans standing on the rim of a gorgeous valley or breath taking canyon; the sight igniting awe in their brains and bodies; lifting them out of themselves for a precious time, and they just kept coming back to repeat the rich experience, and to feel the power.

Maybe one human, a spiritually inspired person, had a dream so powerful that he was compelled to share it with others and through the power of his personality and the holiness of his dreams others were lifted and a church was born.

I really don’t believe it matters where and when humans were first motivated to commune together in recognition of God. For me, it just points up the great truth; no matter where we are or who we’re within this whole wide world, God is always with each and every one of us.