Wednesday, March 4, 2009

HOME ON TRIAL (ACTUAL TRANSCRIPTS)

(These thoughts are added to twice a week)

The courtroom has a giant hush about it. The judge looks down at the defendant “HOME OF TODAY.” The defendant shifts nervously for there is no place to hide.

“Your name?” drones out a voice.

“Home of today,” and there is no bravado in the tone.

“Swear after me, you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“I do.”

“You are charged with not having done all you should for your family.”

“I pay the bills. I provide a more than adequate roof over everyone’s head. I…”

The prosecutor interrupts, “Now where were you on the second Sunday morning in January of this year?”

“I was home in bed; it was cold.”

“An excellent memory. You have never been out in the cold before…”

“Yes, but…”

“No buts, you always stay in bed when it is cold?”

“No, but…”

“What is the lowest temperature at which you will venture to go outside?”

The defense rises to cry out, “Objection.”

“Objection sustained.”

“Excuse me, your Honor. I will change my line of questioning.” smoothly replies the prosecutor.

“I understand you do not have family worship.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Would you mind telling the court why?”
“Well, our is an extremely busy household. There is always a great deal of turmoil in the morning. Mother is rushing to prepare breakfast. Junior is usually unable to find anything. Sis is in another one of her moods. Father is bellowing from the bathroom for everyone to control themselves. Even the briefest of family worship just doesn’t fit in.

“Then you have family worship in the evening?”

“Well, no, not then either. Everyone is so tired by then, and supper has to be ready or father is angry as a lion. And besides, who has family worship these days?”

“Of course, you say a blessing before the meal?”

“We tried it once but everyone was so embarrassed and in such a hurry it was a complete failure.”

“And after supper?’

“No family worship. No Bible reading. No prayer. We believe in God but afterall…well,” there is anger in your voice, Home of Today, and perhaps some nostalgia for some homes of yesterday.

“Wouldn’t it benefit your family to have some spiritual food? Think about it.”

“Objection,” cries out the defense attorney, “the prosecutor is beginning to sermonize.”

“Objection sustained.”

“I understand, Home of Today, that you think the church is a good thing.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You would not want to live in a community where there was no church?”
“No, of course not.”

“You know the church cannot exist without members or at the very least people attending worship services?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think a car is a good thing?”

“Where did that question come from?”

“Just answer the question please.”

“Yes, I have a car.”

“Do you think television is a good thing?”

“Are we about to get into television programming.”

“Please, just answer the question.”

“Yes, television is pleasant so yes it is a good thing.”

“Do you think the church is a good thing?”

“Yes.”
“Do you attend?”

“Most of the time.”

“Fifty percent of the time?”

“That often?”

“Well, maybe a little less than that.”

“Did you and your family attend last Sunday?”

“I overslept.”

“And the Sunday before that?”

“I couldn’t make it.”
“And three Sundays ago?”

“There was company for the weekend.”

“And four Sundays ago?”

“I was there. WE WERE THERE!” And you practically leap out of your seat, for indeed, you were there.

“Do you consider yourself a Christian home?’

“Well…yes.”

“Then I am sure you would be glad to aid the judge and jury in being fair in your behalf,” and with this remark the prosecutor makes a sweeping motion with his hand to include all mentioned.

“Just tell us in your words, and in no particular chronological order the important incidents in the life of Christ.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You’d rather not or cannot?”

“I…I…I might have some difficulty,” you stammer.

“Well, let it go at that,” benevolently answers the prosecutor.

“I do not mean to be praying into your personal affairs, he goes on, but I believe if you will answer the following questions it will help to make this case more clear for all concerned.”

“What is your income per week?”

“I make a good enough living.”

“And what do you give your church and what does your family see you giving?”

“Do I have to answer that questions?” you turn to the judge and ask.

Your answer is so soft that no one can hear you and that is answer enough.

“Let’s move on,” there is a dramatic pause and the silence is deafening.

“How many hours do you work each week?”


“Forty eight and sometimes overtime.”
“What’s your average?”

“Probably no more than fifty but then there is all that time in traffic,” you are feeling on the defensive.

“How long do you sleep each week, counting a nap on Sunday afternoon?”

“Give or take, 56 or 57 hours.”

“Eating?”

“Twenty one if I sat down for every meal but we don’t do that anymore.”

The prosecutor puts his hand on his chin as if in deep thought and then raising his finger says, “That’s approximately128 hours out of a 168 hour week. That gives you a surplus of 40 hours a week to pick and choose what you will do. How much of that time do you give to your church?

There is a pause. You can think of nothing to say that will sound as if you are trying to make excuses again. You start to speak. You decide against it.

The prosecutor turns toward the Judge respectfully says, “I have no questions either your honor.”

The defense attorney rises and says, “I have no questions either your honor.”

And you, Home of Today, were never so glad to leave one spot as you are now.

The prosecuting attorney brings on a host of witnesses to prove his case. He brings those who live and have lived within walls where bickering and shouting and swearing have taken place.

Finally, the defense attorney brings forth some witnesses to bolster his sagging case. He questions those who live and have lived with the walls and he listens to the implied pleas for forgiveness. Everyone knows that guilt is evenly spread about.

The jury is out for a long time. When the members return, they return with the verdict, “Guilty, but with a plea for clemency.”

You, the defendant, Home of Today, are called to stand before the Judge. The judge begins to speak. “You have heard the Jury. They find you guilty. But it is not only they. The facts find you guilty also. I am not unmindful of the problems of making a Christian home. But I am also not unmindful of the problems the world faces, has faced, and will continue to face until there are more Christian homes. I think the only just sentence I can give you is to sentence you to live in the world your own making. COURT ADJOURNED.

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