The Open Door

In his book, “The Body: Being Light in Darkness,” Charles Colson, with Ellen Santilli Vaughn, tells the story of Nowa Huta, or “New Town,” a community in Poland that was originally designed to be a center for the workers who would make up the backbone of the new Poland. The town, located adjacent to the medieval city of Krakow, ancient seat of Polish kings and golden centerpiece of Polish art, culture, and spirit since the thirteenth century, Nowa Huta was a major industrial center. The town was populated with large steel works and ugly chimneys spewing smoke and sulfuric fumes into the air over southern Poland.

Early in the town’s construction, an open square attracted the attention of the workers. It seemed to them to testify to the vacuum the Communists had left in all their frenzied urban planning.

The workers said, “We need a church, a place to worship.”

The authorities wondered what the problem was with these troublesome Poles. After all, their new housing was the best that planners could design. They even had hot and cold water. Why in the world would they be clamoring for more? Especially, why would they want a church?

The Communists bought time by simply nodding and agreeing, “Fine, no problem.”

So several young Christians and a Polish priest nailed together a couple of rugged beams and pounded the rough timber cross into the Polish soil to mark the site where the chapel would be built. Not long after the authorities said, “We are sorry, but this space is needed for something else. You cannot build your church here.”

The people were undaunted. They wanted their church. Night after night they gathered around the cross. Priests offered mass and the people sang and celebrated communion with one another and their Lord.

The authorities responded with water cannons, but this did not phase the faithful. Then the Communists tore down the cross as if somehow by tearing it down they would rip Christ out of the hearts of the believers. To the contrary, the citizens of Nowa Huta were determined, and in the morning the cross would once again be stretching toward heaven for all to see.

This went on for years. The authorities would tear down the cross and the people would restore it. In the midst of the struggle, the people came to a realization that would solidify their faith in such a way that the Communists would never be able to remove it from their hearts.

“The church is not a building,” the believers said to one another. “The church is us, celebrating the presence of our Lord among us! Praise be to God!”

Wherever believers gather for worship on Easter Sunday, the church is present. We gather for the purpose of celebrating the amazing grace of God expressed through Jesus Christ who gave His life on the cross of Calvary that through the shedding of His blood, we might know the forgiveness of our sins. We celebrate the fact that the cross is not the end of the amazing story of God’s love.

It is the empty tomb that we celebrate on Easter. Once and for all, Jesus destroyed death for all who believe in Him and receive Him as personal Lord and Savior. The feeble efforts of men to prevent the church from being established, from worshiping, and from experiencing joy will always fail.

The reason, of course, is that the church is us, those who believe in Jesus Christ as God’s only precious Son and our Savior. Whether we are gathered or whether we are in moments of quiet solitude, our joy in Christ comes through the power of His resurrection and the good news that because He lives, we shall live also!

As believers gather to worship and praise the Lord on this Easter Sunday all across Georgia, my sincerest prayer is that great joy will fill our hearts and cover our state in such a way that it will become the seed for revival that will sweep all of Georgia for Christ.