Come, Before The World Consumes You Whole
by Donavon L Riley

The Church stands like an old, weathered harbor, carved out of time and stone, waiting for those weary souls adrift in the storm. It doesn’t shimmer like the lights of the city; it doesn’t call out with the hollow promises of the marketplace. Its peace is quieter, deeper. It waits, always open, always steady, a place where the winds of the world finally lose their grip. The door creaks open, like the arms of a friend you haven’t seen in years, welcoming you back to a table that doesn’t ask for anything but your presence. The world out there—it’s wild and mad, running you ragged with its promises of fulfillment. But inside the Church, there is food for the soul, not the stomach. Here, rest has weight, substance.

And you, who’ve spent your life chasing after the glint of gold, after fame and fleeting triumphs—aren’t you tired yet? All the coins you’ve gathered, all the titles and honors—they’re nothing but water slipping through your hands. You’ll die with clenched fists, holding onto nothing but air. Come, sit, before it’s too late. The Church asks for nothing, promises nothing but the Truth—an eternal Truth that the world has long forgotten. There’s no currency here, no trophies, no applause. Only a peace that doesn’t fade and a fire that doesn’t burn out. You’ve spent too long listening to the clamor of the crowd, the relentless noise of a world obsessed with more, more, more. But here, in the quiet, you’ll find something that doesn’t wear out, doesn’t crumble.

And what about you? You who’ve sold yourself to the endless climb, who wake each day with a gnawing hunger for something you can’t name. You know the one—fame, wealth, security—it’s never enough, is it? The Church, in all her humility, offers no escape from pain or suffering, no guarantees of success or fame. But she does offer you a way out of the madness, a way to rest from the constant grinding of your soul. Cast off that burden, the one you’ve carried for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to walk free. The Church’s doors stand open, not with promises of comfort but with an invitation to find something greater than all the riches in the world.

Come, before the world consumes you whole. In the Church’s quiet corners, you might find that what you’ve been chasing all along was never out there, in the glint of gold or the roar of applause, but here, in the stillness. The world will tell you otherwise, but let it howl outside those old, weathered doors. Inside, there’s a warmth that never fades, a peace that can’t be bought, and a truth that outlasts every empire. Let go of what the world has sold you, and you’ll find something far richer—a life rooted not in endless striving but in a Love that never fails.