Whoever has ears, let them hear:

The Kingdom of God beckons like a splendid real estate listing for a sprawling property still under construction. But, instead of a firm, non-negotiable price, its Multiple Listing Service (MLS) description states, “All offers considered.”

From near and far, many people looking for a new place to live decide to visit this extraordinary place. Some are newcomers to the neighborhood, while others are old-timers who have lived here much of their lives but, for one reason or another, have decided that the time now has come to change their abode.

Approaching the entrance to the building, a sign has been tacked to the front door: “Open. All are welcome here. Please come in, make yourselves comfortable, and have a look around our home.”

Inside, it’s a marvel to behold.

Off the entry way referred is a meandering corridor with rooms to the left and right.

A Gathering Room is filled with extraordinary antiques and lovely old keepsakes. The scent of wax from candles and on heavily polished wooden pews permeates the air as clusters of people “ooh” and “aah” over the leaded stained-glass windows which filter prisms of light. They bow before vintage figurines and statues, murmuring softly and reverently. By the look in their eyes and peaceful demeanor, some appear to be touched by a ghost or holy spirit amid all the hallowed icons amassed here.

Adjoining this room of antiquities is another room—not quite so old, yet still classic and traditional. Here, the people cloistered seem a bit more reserved as they pay homage to the place in a pristine and orderly fashion. They all know the specific reply to each statement or question, as everyone echoes the proper response promptly and with great precision. Though, to some, this seems somewhat stifled or silly, the appointed words and common traditions underscore a sense of sensibility resulting in a bond enrapturing quite a few people hearing a holy, holy, holy celestial choir.

Several visitors to the property are held spellbound by these two rooms and find themselves passing back and forth between them. In some ways, both rooms are similar although, quite naturally, certain folks are more beholden to the antiques and heirlooms while others are bound to their customary rites and rituals.

The formal rooms continue to unfold as we step into the Library. Silently, one of the men seated around a large table looks up as we enter and points to his lips, making the “Shhhhhhhhh!” sound. We are not to speak while here. If the other two rooms we had been through were warmed by the touch of flesh through handshakes, a squeeze to the shoulder, or pat on the back, this room seems fundamentally cold and foreboding. Those seated at the tables have their eyes resolutely glued to the pages in front of them. Their fingers follow the words with Talmudic scrutiny, parsing laws and prohibitions. Every so often, someone nods in affirmation at the book or glances up at the ceiling as if the Holy One of Israel can be found ensconced there.

Passing a series of Dormitories whose doors are slightly ajar, we peek inside. Time blurs in these bedrooms where we expected peaceful people to be sleeping. Instead, they are silently meditating on some noble truths, softly chanting their mantras, or stretching their limbs in yoga positions—reaching reflexively toward a higher moral principle, perspective, or purpose.

Next, we approach the grand Fellowship Hall where music swells as we smile back at those grinning our way; something seems amiss, however—odd and out of sorts. Despite the frivolous camaraderie, some people evidence a serene satisfaction, as if being together in a general store surrounded by all its goods.

To the left of the Fellowship Hall in an open-concept Family Room where people are listening to a lecture that’s followed a movie shown here earlier. No rules or regulations are enforced here, just respect for each person’s uniqueness and a hallelujah chorus of diversity, social justice, and emancipation proclamation. The emphasis here is on leaving the room a better place than you found it.

We cannot help but put hands over our ears for all the hooting and hollering coming from down the hall, where people are shouting and clapping, dancing and singing, with words that don’t make any sense (to us). As quickly as someone stands and utters a string of unknown syllables, another interrupts, prophesying praises or condemnations. There is neither rhyme nor reason, and, despite prostrate people lying jubilantly helter-skelter across the floor, mystical satisfaction seems to permeate the activity here. Who can say that, miraculously, they aren’t swept up in some sort of spiritual ecstasy? 

You can see the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, as only a few rooms are left before the backyard door … which is wide open.

The next room our group comes to has a bright, neon sign above its portal flashing: “Bonus Room!” But the door to this room is closed. We knock and the door opens from the inside. “You have to pay – spend your money as well as time – in this room,” a voice intones.  “How much?” a member of our group asks. “That depends on what you want,” quickly comes the reply. “You need to sow seeds to reap a harvest.”

We peek into the room without crossing the threshold. Truth be told, the room looks more like a bank or investment firm, with people standing as best they can – some holding tightly onto canes, the blind being led by guides gripping their hands, and others waiting impatiently as nervous tics ravage their faces – all awaiting their turn at the convenience counter.

“Do you have faith? Do you trust God? Do you believe God’s Word? Will you confess and claim it? Are you willing to put God to the test and prove that you’ve been promised health, wealth, and happiness?” asks the dapper proprietor behind the window grills. “Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!” cries each supplicant approaching.

“Then, plant a seed. Put a deposit, a down payment, on the riches in store for you,” the hawker urges, as people peel off 50-, 100-, and 500-dollar bills … or more.

Some of us are shocked at the nature of these “covenant” transactions.

Three rooms remain for us to see in this cathedral of a house.

One, we decide to bypass, as it seems too reminiscent of the Family Room. This one is called the “Playroom,” and it’s obvious why: Entertainment is the focus here. There are video games and sound stages with bands blasting contemporary gospel music (variety shows and theatrical performances), as well as plenty of young, exuberant faces eager to soak it all in. Coffee makers and bagels with cream cheese are set out as snacks here. People hug each other and say, “See you next week,” as they leave the room to go merrily on their way.

Warm and welcoming, the Kitchen is full of joyful volunteers who charitably cook and clean up after themselves to feed those hungry and/or homeless. It’s truly amazing how the pantry here is never empty—each time groceries are removed and divided among the guests, the food multiplies so that even more can be served. A banner strung over the serving area subtly reminds folks that, “Joy shared is doubled. Sorrow shared is halved.”

The last room before our exit seems quite stark and quiet. Friends sit in a circle on simple chairs, without the grandiose décor found elsewhere on our tour. Nobody speaks or acknowledges us as we look in; they continue in prayer and contemplation. No glad-handing or promises of prosperity is here, simply a solemn serenity begging for peace among all.

Tired as we are from previewing the property, we need, at least, to take a quick look outside. We are standing in front of an open door that looks out on a backyard stretching as far as the heavens. People continuously coming and going from this expanse of nature are both kind and helpful to those they know and others, as they bend beneath the weight of carrying another’s burdens. Here, they lay down parts, parcels, and packets of their lives for others to take while picking up pieces of wood and kindling to fuel the fires of friendship. Children and animals romp together as sunshine and rain nourish the ground, rendering it friendly and fertile.

“So, what do you think of my parents’ house?” inquires the heir and agent apparent, suddenly standing among us. “My family’s house has many rooms. Didn’t I already tell you that? Can I prepare a place – a room – for you here?” he asks, offering each of us our choice of no-money-down, obligation-free reservations.

It seems too good to be true to us, we wayfarers, as there’s faith abounding here for everyone to dwell together harmoniously—despite whatever our differences.

Bidding adieu, we remember the words in the property’s listing:

“All offers considered.”

Because the ageless rock of its cornerstone is grace.