In England there is a cemetery known as Bunhill Hills. It is a place where people are buried with a reputation for not being loyal to the Church of England. While the bodies resting here can not claim the blessing of the Church of England they were some of the most influential people in their day for the cause of Christ.

This first tombstone is the final resting place of John Bunyan. Among other things, he wrote the classic book, Pilgrim's Progress. This should probably be mandatory reading for every Christ follower.

This next one is the tomb of Isaac Watts. He was a prolific writer of hymns (around 600) and they include When I Survey, Am I a Soldier of the Cross, and Joy to the World. He died in 1748

This last one is Susanna Wesley, mother of John and Charles Wesley. Her two sons gave to the church an emphasis of social justice rooted in holy living. They gave us hundreds of hymns most of which were deleted from songbooks in the early 1900's when we were stuck with "Gospel Ditty" songs.

I am struck as I look at these cold stone edifices with the notion that I want to leave behind more than a lonesome grave. While I admire their ability to be buried in a place for spiritual pioneers, what I admire more is their

ability to touch others. They didn't touch others with their razzle dazzle, they touched them with the presence of Jesus Christ. The effect they had on their generation was one of spiritual transformation and changed lives. I long to see people growing in their love for God and for others.

This week we will talk about the fact that God is with us in our services. The question of the week is how much is God with us? How much is He with you and me. How much does He want of us? 100%. Anything less is us making and playing by are own rules. I am tired of that kind of Christianity. Really tired of it.

My prayer is found in this old Watts hymn:

My God, permit me not to be A stranger to myself and Thee; Amidst a thousand thoughts I rove,

Forgetful of my highest love.
Why should my passions mix with earth, And thus debase my heav’nly birth?

Why should I cleave to things below, And let my God, my Savior, go?
Call me away from flesh and sense, One sov’reign word can draw me thence;

I would obey the voice divine, And all inferior joys resign.
Be earth with all her scenes withdrawn, Let noise and vanity begone;

In secret silence of the mind My heav’n, and there my God, I find.