A young Gypsy girl, recently converted to Christ, is walking through the woods in search of other like-minded Christians to fellowship with. She comes across a clearing, and on top of a grassy hill is the most beautiful first-century Church.
The walls of the building are fashioned sandstone, with stained-glass windows depicting various Christian events including the crucifixion in exquisite detail. An image of Christ is moulded in solid gold on a cross of red rubies. At the end of a cobblestone pathway spiralling its way up the hill are heavy oak doors at the entrance of the church. The young Gypsy girl is astounded, and immediately decides that this where she will worship on the Sabbath.
The Sabbath comes, and the young girl figures she should get dressed up. She puts rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, ribbons through her hair, her best dress, expensive perfume and make-up.
The young Gypsy girl is full of excitement, and makes her way to the Church moments before the congregation arrives. She sees the heavy oak doors and the Church minister standing in front of them with a long white beard and a brown sackcloth.
The young Gypsy girl is beaming when the minister asks "Can I help you?"
"I've come to fellowship with other like-minded Christians!" the Gypsy girl replies excitedly.
"Not like that you don't!" scoffs the minster. "You've got no shoes on, nor sleeves, the bells on your toes make a dreadful racket, your hair is a mess what with all those ribbons through it, your perfume is likely to set off allergies and your make-up seals the deal. You look like a harlot! You are a disgrace to the Church and to God!"
The young Gypsy girl bursts into tears and runs past the crowd who ignore her and merrily make their way to Church. She sits at the bottom of the hill and mourns because she doesn't fit in. She prays and says "Lord, I'm sorry I wasn't dressed appropriately to enter your house today. I had no idea. Please forgive me!"
After many more tears, and the girl beginning to wonder if this Jesus she's been told about really exists, he himself whispers in her ear "My beayutiful child. Fear not. They haven't let me in for years either."
The walls of the building are fashioned sandstone, with stained-glass windows depicting various Christian events including the crucifixion in exquisite detail. An image of Christ is moulded in solid gold on a cross of red rubies. At the end of a cobblestone pathway spiralling its way up the hill are heavy oak doors at the entrance of the church. The young Gypsy girl is astounded, and immediately decides that this where she will worship on the Sabbath.
The Sabbath comes, and the young girl figures she should get dressed up. She puts rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, ribbons through her hair, her best dress, expensive perfume and make-up.
The young Gypsy girl is full of excitement, and makes her way to the Church moments before the congregation arrives. She sees the heavy oak doors and the Church minister standing in front of them with a long white beard and a brown sackcloth.
The young Gypsy girl is beaming when the minister asks "Can I help you?"
"I've come to fellowship with other like-minded Christians!" the Gypsy girl replies excitedly.
"Not like that you don't!" scoffs the minster. "You've got no shoes on, nor sleeves, the bells on your toes make a dreadful racket, your hair is a mess what with all those ribbons through it, your perfume is likely to set off allergies and your make-up seals the deal. You look like a harlot! You are a disgrace to the Church and to God!"
The young Gypsy girl bursts into tears and runs past the crowd who ignore her and merrily make their way to Church. She sits at the bottom of the hill and mourns because she doesn't fit in. She prays and says "Lord, I'm sorry I wasn't dressed appropriately to enter your house today. I had no idea. Please forgive me!"
After many more tears, and the girl beginning to wonder if this Jesus she's been told about really exists, he himself whispers in her ear "My beayutiful child. Fear not. They haven't let me in for years either."
