A woman chronically ill occupies a bed in the Intensive Care Unit. A host of expert doctors have been assigned to her case. But none have succeeded in waking her from her deep sleep. They’ve studied her medical history from every angle and pored over ancient texts for answers. They’ve experimented with various theories and filled universities with their learning. They’ve run a battery of tests till there were no surfaces left on her person to probe or puncture. Still she lays there dead to the world, baffling the wisest of worldly men.
The search for a cure has spawned extensive research and endless intellectual debates all over the world. Experts have been consulted, books have been authored and conferences conducted to discuss the peculiarities of her case. She's even unwittingly lent her name to organizations who’ve dedicated their cause to her living memory. She is loved and supported by people she will never meet or know.
She has survived every groundbreaking discovery in the field of medical science. No expense has been spared. No stone left unturned. But to no avail. A machine now breathes for her.
Her tired caregivers have now turned their efforts to making her more presentable to her kind well-wishers. They've disguised her sickly pallor with a rosy blush, painted her shrunken eyelids with rainbow hues and tinted her blue lips, a brilliant red. A liberal splash of floral scents masks the presence of bed sores while a specially tailored garment keeps atrophying limbs out of sight.
Those who step into her exclusive quarters are greeted with a view of a sensuous woman dressed in designer silk, reclining on smooth satin sheets and supported by soft fluffy pillows. Soothing music plays in the background so visitors are not alarmed to her real condition. An IV supplies nourishment to her veins while an invisible catheter discretely disposes her wastes. Her doctors are ever ready in case of an emergency. Their professionalism and excellent bedside manner has everyone believing she couldn't be in better hands.
But her doctors know a secret. Their patient is only useful to them as long as she sleeps on in oblivion. Can you imagine the consequences if she woke up? Her condition has provided hundreds of jobs and kept their established centers of 'wellness' solvent and debt-free for years. In fact, in the event she expires, they have planned a fancy funeral and a cemetery plot on prime property where the public can pay to picnic while fondly recalling the once famous woman she used to be.
The search for a cure has spawned extensive research and endless intellectual debates all over the world. Experts have been consulted, books have been authored and conferences conducted to discuss the peculiarities of her case. She's even unwittingly lent her name to organizations who’ve dedicated their cause to her living memory. She is loved and supported by people she will never meet or know.
She has survived every groundbreaking discovery in the field of medical science. No expense has been spared. No stone left unturned. But to no avail. A machine now breathes for her.
Her tired caregivers have now turned their efforts to making her more presentable to her kind well-wishers. They've disguised her sickly pallor with a rosy blush, painted her shrunken eyelids with rainbow hues and tinted her blue lips, a brilliant red. A liberal splash of floral scents masks the presence of bed sores while a specially tailored garment keeps atrophying limbs out of sight.
Those who step into her exclusive quarters are greeted with a view of a sensuous woman dressed in designer silk, reclining on smooth satin sheets and supported by soft fluffy pillows. Soothing music plays in the background so visitors are not alarmed to her real condition. An IV supplies nourishment to her veins while an invisible catheter discretely disposes her wastes. Her doctors are ever ready in case of an emergency. Their professionalism and excellent bedside manner has everyone believing she couldn't be in better hands.
But her doctors know a secret. Their patient is only useful to them as long as she sleeps on in oblivion. Can you imagine the consequences if she woke up? Her condition has provided hundreds of jobs and kept their established centers of 'wellness' solvent and debt-free for years. In fact, in the event she expires, they have planned a fancy funeral and a cemetery plot on prime property where the public can pay to picnic while fondly recalling the once famous woman she used to be.
13 "From the least to the greatest,
all are greedy for gain;
prophets and priests alike,
all practice deceit.
14 They dress the wound of my people
as though it were not serious.
'Peace, peace,' they say,
when there is no peace.
(Jeremiah 6: 13-14, New International Version)
How will we answer Jesus when he asks what we have done with His Body, His Bride, His Church?
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