"The Rest of The Story" behind the mystery photo

Wow, you all are prophetic storytellers indeed.

Last week, I posted this photo, with this challenge:

"Someone write a short story outline, or scenario on this picture.
Post it below in the comments section.

Next week I'll post on why I had to take it; what it means to me."

Well, it's next week.

First let me say: THANKS to all for their participation.This was fun. And like all stories, all your stories are "true." That is to say, when I reveal why I took it, that doesn't mean any of your interps were "wrong." I knew I would love my readers minds/imagination.

Secondly, about the answers, assembled from the MySpace, Facebook(etc) mirrors of the post. It is certainly a sign of the times that all responders came via the social network mirrors of this blog; none from the blog itself. Maybe "traditional blogs" are already old school/wineskin, and to really jack up the interaction and wikiness, the newer sites are where it's at (at least this year).

Wow, great stuff. I will need to interact with the interacters..you are all hired as screenwriters and church/culture trackers.

Here's all the stories:

This is why the Virtual Pew continues to grow, come on now churches get it together. Of course those at the pew or Third Day know the difference between being in church, and being the church. -Mike

"...He doesn't know why he sits on the last pew. Perhaps he feels unholy, not worthy of sitting close to the altar... But how he needs a miracle.His eyes look downward, at his calloused fingers. The palms are sweaty. He has tried to pray for over an hour but he does not know how to start. Yet he senses, that somehow, somewhere, God listens to his silence."-Santa Juana

He is scared to go up front, scared that God won't accept him.Posted by Tim

It'd be full if there were beer on tap and a sports event on a giant screen or strippers. -graceshaker

hhhm...Zaccheus laid low in the back pews, wanting to check out what was going on up front, but staying anonymous. He planned on slipping out largely unnoticed. Then the light filtering in through the church window grew blindingly bright, and he was literally struck blind. He had to grope around awhile like Saul, fasting, until eventually, after much prayer, he regained his physical sight. For weeks and months afterward, he struggled with always wanting to recapture that frightening encounter with God, because it was so tangible. As he grew older, his faith grew and became a much stronger sign than the Wonder that the others in the building had seen. Scott Jones >It's kind of an interesting picture! My first thought was "what were you doing at a catholic church?" but then I realized I didn't see any of those rooms. You know the ones people go into to confess there sins adn there's some dude in there listening to the whole thing. On a second glance....the sun caught my eye. It looks so bright in that room. The sun is just beaming. It actually looks very warm. I kind of wonder if the man in the back is watching over the others. Like how a shepherd watches over it's flock. Is he waiting for someone or something to arrive? What about the small crowd in the front? It looks as if they are sitting amongst all the warmth from the sun. Are they basking in the joy, in the prescence, in the sunbeams? The picture only shows one side of the church/building. What about the otherside? Is just as empty or is it filled to capacity? Is the sun just as bright on the other side as it is in the photo? -P.P. >>"This just doesn't get it for me," Jared said, appraising the photo. "Really? I think it's got a nice prog-rockish edge to it," replied the art director. "Kind of a cross between early Pink Floyd and 'Hotel California.'" "Hm." Jared rolled his eyes, and the rest of the band members moaned. Veteran studio musicians, they'd been through this before. "No, I just don't see it. What else you got for us?" "That's it," the art director said. "Then it's back to the drawing board." **** Oh! I just realized I was writing about your profile picture, not the one on your blog. My bad. Andrew Careaga Well, since Holy Spirit is not interested in bringing pews and altars into The Kingdom, there was probably not a whole lot happening in this building when the photo was taken...on the other hand, what kind of Holy things were happening at the cafe around the corner where people were crowded in? -Ken my interpretation? the man sitting in the back knows that he is a sinner, and far too afraid to approach the front(where it is lit, or has Light...perhaps symbolizing God in a sense). or, empty seats? -The Somafied -------------------- Here's my story; the story behind the photo: It was National Day of Prayer. And in no way is what i am about to recounst a criticism of that program, which I support. It is a criticism of ME (whom I hope to support, as well). The citywide gathering for prayer at City Hall was happening. God is doing wonderful things in or city; unifying pastors and churches across tribe and tongue. That is an amazing gift. I love the format. Due to the amazing prayer-apostle, St.Paul Haratounian's faith and organization, it is (unlike how many "prayer meetings" actually prayer . Different pastors and leaders take turn leading in prayer over different sectors of our city (police, schools, churches, etc.) And there is actually small group prayer, so people actually get to know and pray with believers from other churches. Brilliant! But somehow I was not completely comfortable this year. What was it, I asked myself? The atmosphere, a sweet as it was; and as pleasing to God is must have been, wasn't completely working for me. I started daydreaming..I felt drawn to cross the street....in a way that wouldn't be "skipping" the prayer meeting, but extending it: re-presenting it just a few yards away... I listened and agreed with a leader praying over the microphone about the homeless. But since I was praying with my eyes open, I could literally SEE some homeless. I was no longer able to stay in a holy huddle. No one saw me slip out, and walk into the time warp. I know what you're thinking. No, I didn't actually talk with, or pray with, a homeless person. I wasn't a hero; I probably failed at my mission. But I just had to get, to smell, to walk among the context and pavement of the prayer. What happened next changed my life forever. I hope. I'm also afraid it increased by sarcasm towards organized conservagelicalism. In fact, I almost had a temple tantrum at some well-meaning Christian woman who was just doing her job. But I am too nice for that. Instead I smiled and took the sticker. Are you familiar with the stickers they give you as you leave the voting precinct on election day: a little flag with the words: "I voted". God bless you if you wear those. I hate them. They are of course intended to encourage everyone who sees you the rest of the day to do their civic duty. But it's not my style to wear a flag, let alone anything that can be interpreted as bragging that I...well, did my civic duty. Those stickers always made me laugh; thinking it was akin to something like handing you a sticker as you leave a prayer meeting that actually says: "I prayed." I would always laugh at that thought; knowing that it would so obviously violate the spirit of Jesus' warning in Matthew 6 that it would never happen. It just did. A volunteer at the prayer meeting saw me cutting out early, and I as a set out to cross the street, she handed me some literature about other prayer events, aloing with a little sticker that said : "I prayed." I gulped. In my heart, I wept. ! And it had a flag on it. I smiled and silently walked across the street. Daydreaming.. Hey, what if instead of just having a community leader up front leading in prayer for the homeless,we actually also had a homeless person at the microphone, having them lead the prayer? What if instead of just the large church pastors being up front on the platform, we had a random sampling of unknown believers from various churches....even (gasp) smaller churches? What if in addition to having a formal, programmed prayer meeting at city hall, we allowed an informal, unprogrammed one also across the streets..in the real world.. ...where I wouldn't dare wear on my lapel the sticker I was now cradling in my pocket; still in shock that such a product actually existed. I realized I could walk in any direction, and be within earshot and eyeshot of the prayer meeting, but be in a world where I felt more comfortable (or appropriately uncomfortable). Over the loudspeaker was someone praying about the drug problem. Over here, across the street, a drug problem walked by me. I spent the rest of the officially designated prayer hour silently praying around the train station (my heart breaking for the transients, for those waiting on loved ones), the hospital (capturing the ache in the eyes of those in the waiting room, the park (the mentally ill sharing a lunch out of a backpack). I knew I had to remember this day if it ever would do me any good. I, as inconspicuously as possible, pulled out my cellphone and stuck a few pictures of people and scenes unfolding before me. This was a prayer meeting, too. No, to my shame, I did not pray aloud with anyone, or buy lunch for anyone. But the shopping bag ladies...as well as the upper class business men briskly walking to a brisk upper class business lunch moved me to prayer.. ..All within a block of the prayer meeting. I thanked God for the well-meaning "I prayed" sticker; and remembered Douglas Wilson's words "Jesus told us to pray so that men could see us, which we have interpreted as a call to hold prayer vigils on the Capitol steps, so that Congress will stop disobeying what Jesus said not to do" (Mt.6:5). . -A Serrated Edge: A Brief Defense of Biblical Satire and Trinitarian Skylarking On the way back to the car, I felt drawn into the Catholic church. As often is the case, Catholic church doors are open, so folks can come in and pray even when there is no scheduled service or mass. We could take a page from that. It was late lunch hour. No official service or mass was happening. Or was it? Two thoughts hit me: The emptiness of the place/space (compared to the packed prayer meeting across the way.... a million miles away). And the fulness of the place spiritually, somehow. Among the handful of scattered worshippers there was a bizarre but blessed corporate connectedness to God and each other. As I sat (No, I didn't "cross myself"), the silence was startlingly broken by a small group of women's voices being raised in passionate prayer, in passionate Spanish. They were up front, out of sight in a section out of view. They may have been praying to Mary, or The Virgin of Guadalupe ..or is some way that was not quote theologically evangelical...but in strange sort of way I amened their prayers, the centeredsetness of their heart's direction, their steadfastness. This was a prayer meeting. But none of the attenders would likely feel at home across the street at the National Day of Prayer gathering of the evangelical club. I grabbed my cell phone to stealth-take a picture. I was aware of the man right in front of me, and I sure didn't want to interrupt his prayer..or his confusion/jealousy of the invisible Pentecsotalish women praying up front. Or whatever he was doing there. But I confess I intentionally included the back of his head for appropriate and interesting foreground for the camera shot. It's just basic photography. Or is that the only reason? It also felt like I should remember this man's attendance at a prayer meeting...or whatever drew him to one;as I was still unsure how welcome he would feel at the "other"prayer meeting. I winced as the camera shutter clicked, and I slipped out of the cathedral. I walked by bag ladies, gangster types; and as I got closer to my car and the crowds leaving the big prayer meeting, by a pastor i knew who had been "on the program," and was headed for the car. Still a bit stunned (and maybe embarrassed at having "cut" the meeting), I nodded. I was hoping he didn't see me; I was still a bit shellshocked. He didn't. He loosened his tie, and got in his car. I could have said "Hey, you can't go yet; there are real people in this neighborhood; real lonely people at the train station, real drug addicts in the park, real people praying in the cathedral!!" But I was the hypocrite; I hadn't talked to, engaged any of those real people either. So I got in the car, quickly surveyed my stash of captured photos, the "I prayed" sticker , and hoped I would remember, and re-member that day's powerful prayer meeting(s). Pray that I do.