His House is in the Village Though

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow                      Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

    I have always loved the poetry of Robert Frost, possibly because we both hail from New England. An interesting footnote to our Yankee history is that the first New England towns were settled with a “Green or Commons”  in the center. Around that village green were built the homes and of course the Congregational church. Outside of town each family was assigned a place for plowing and a wood-lot. (His house is in the village).  I say all this not to give a history lesson  but to make the point that the purpose behind the plan was community. Most central to that community was the sharing of experiences of worship, work and trade. At the root of the Ferguson and New York City protests that are shaking the foundations of our country today is the loss of  that community. Where is the church? Churches often have fled for safety to the suburbs but have left behind their purpose. Though we may have forgotten our house in the village, maybe it is not too late to relocate, remember and get involved where God intended. That city on a hill should be right at the center of the action!

Nancys phone photos May 2013 048_crop

You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Matthew 5:14 

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