There is an old story that i recently re-discovered. It is a classic and very discriptive of what i have been trying to look at through this site……..

Recently I rediscovered a toy, a plastic church I’d played with when I was a small boy. It had been so long ago that I had completely forgotten about it, and I wondered if everything was the same. So, just as I had done years before, I removed the plastic roof and looked inside.
As always, the whole place seemed to come alive with tiny plastic people. They weren’t exactly the same. Some of the older ones were gone, and there were some new young ones; but they were mostly the same plastic people I had put there, except, of course, they had kept pace with the times.
In the rear of the sanctuary, a group of college-age youth was planning a Sabbath afternoon meeting. The leader, a bright-looking, nervous young fellow, rubbed his plastic hands together and said, “Well, I guess I have somebody for everything — except prayer. Any volunteers?”
No volunteers.
“I guess I’ll have to do it myself again this time. Now let’s all try to be here on time. Remember what happened last time. Now let’s all go downstairs and get something to eat.”
In the recreation room a meal was being served to members of the youth club, who were eating, laughing, and having a generally happy time. They hardly looked up when the club leader and his committee entered.
One young fellow, his plastic freckled face contorted into a wide grin, was telling a joke about Martin Luther and the pope. Everyone within hearing range thought he was tremendously funny — as indeed he was.
In the choir room a mixed octet was practicing with excellent harmony when one lady, her plastic red hair glowing like fire, suddenly stopped singing. Everyone looked.
“It sorry,” she said, “but I can’t sing with Mrs. Brown. Somehow our voices just do not harmonize!” Then she walked out, followed by her husband, the first tenor, their plastic shoes making an odd sound on the floor of my plastic church.
“Well!” said Mrs. Brown. “Well, I never!”
But Mr. Brown, cooler, said, “Let’s form a sextet and sing something else.”
In the pastor’s study the church elders were discussing how to raise funds for the annual offering for the poor. “People just don’t seem to want to give anymore,” Mr. Gray, who had made his money in real estate, was saying. “They think they can leave the whole program in the laps of the richer members.” He leaned back in his posh plastic chair and eyed Dr. Black.
Dr. Black, the richest elder, said, “That’s true, Mr. Gray. Everyone wants to leave the burden on the backs of the richer members. We need something that will appeal to the ordinary member, I mean something that will really appeal?
“I have an idea!” said Mr. Green, the youngest elder, a man definitely on his way up, his plastic face shining brightly with expectation and enthusiasm. “Why don’t we sponsor a raffle! It’s surprising how much money a raffle will bring in. The large Catholic church on the corner sponsors a raffle every year, and every year — bingo! — another smashing success! Just like clockwork. They give away a new Cadillac donated by one of the dealers in town. It doesn’t cost the church a cent — except for advertising and incidental expenses.”
“W-e-ell,” said Pastor White, a conservative man. “This is a new idea to me. We’ve never sponsored a raffle before. This is a conservative church, you know. And I doubt that a raffle would be accepted by the denomination.”
“Someone has to pave the way,” broke in Mr. Green, sitting on the edge of his plastic chair.
“Maybe it will work,” said Dr. Blue, who usually says very little. “It does have definite appeal, whereas giving just to help someone in need has gotten rather passé. The idea of winning a new car appeals to different motives entirely. It should be a lot more successful. After all, the money will be going to a worthy cause. What do you think, Dr. Black?”
“Oh, I’m all for it. Fact is, I’ve been thinking the same thing for a long time myself. I’m all for striking out in new directions. What this church needs is more spirit. We need to bring the ordinary member back into the picture. It’s too much strain on the richer members to have to raise the money all the time.”
I was about to replace the plastic roof and walk away when I noticed a woman standing alone in the narthex. She obviously was not yet a baptized member, wearing, as she was, heavy eye makeup, a necklace, and earrings. My little plastic church was a conservative church, and the ladies wore only a touch of makeup; maybe some of them wore wedding bands, but never a big gaudy ring like this one, and never ever a necklace or earrings.
She looked somewhat out of place standing there beside the great stained-plastic window with its intricately jeweled design, all alone, with the conservative, formal church ladies parading past. A few eyed her as though she ought to be “spoken with.” Most ignored her.
I was glad, because turned away from them as she was, facing the stained-plastic window, her hands folded on the ledge and her eyes closed, she couldn’t see them anyway. I knelt there over the plastic church for a long time, watching her, before I finally replaced the plastic roof and walked away. She was praying.