The Council That Never Was – Volume VI
Prologue: The Thunder of Thrones
The scene changed again.
Now the forum resembled a battlefield of thrones:
Golden thrones of kings, stone benches of judges, leather seats of parliaments.
Behind each stood banners—nations, ideologies, denominations, movements.
The Church had not been silent in history.
But often—too often—she had been co-opted.
Theologians gathered once more—called not to govern empires, but to confront them.
And a Voice whispered through the wind:
“Which kingdom do you serve?”
Chapter 1: The Prophetic Cry
Bonhoeffer stood first—his voice still marked by prisons and gallows:
“When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die. The Church must speak when the State becomes idolatrous.”
Jeremiah, seen only as a spirit in the wind, echoed:
“You will not be popular. But you must speak.”
Barth, standing beside Bonhoeffer:
“We said Nein to Hitler not because we were brave—but because the Word compelled us. The prophet is not a partisan—he is a witness.”
Gutiérrez raised a hand:
“Then the witness must stand with the poor. With the migrant. With the violated. Or the prophet becomes a chaplain of the elite.”
Wesley nodded:
“I fear we’ve made holiness personal, but never public.”
Luther, more cautious:
“But beware, brothers. When the Church becomes the sword, it often loses the cross.”
Chapter 2: The Empire and the Lamb
Athanasius walked slowly, memories of Constantine and councils fresh in his eternal mind:
“We thought the empire’s embrace would preserve us. It preserved our power—but threatened our purity.”
Cyril of Alexandria, sombre:
“We defended Christ against heresy—but at what cost to our witness?”
Calvin spoke:
“A holy commonwealth is possible. But it must be bound to Scripture—never to party.”
Augustine, slowly:
“The City of God is not Rome. Nor Geneva. Nor Washington. Nor Jerusalem. It is within—but never fully among.”
Moltmann added:
“Hope must not marry any empire. For when it does, the crucified Christ becomes a flag.”
Balthasar:
“Power corrupts vision. Only love sees clearly.”
Chapter 3: Theology in the Streets
A screen appeared—flashing riots, protests, assemblies, martyrs.
Gutiérrez stepped forward:
“You ask where the Church is? She is under tear gas. She is organising clinics. She is feeding the hungry—preaching with her body.”
Wesley:
“The poor are not a mission—they are our brothers.”
Schleiermacher:
“But do we have a gospel for the activist? Or only for the sanctuary?”
Barth, sharply:
“We preach the Kingdom—not utopia. The Church must never become a revolution—but she must resist every injustice in the name of Christ.”
Bonhoeffer:
“Discipleship is resistance. Cheap grace is the ally of tyrants.”
Chapter 4: The Cross or the Crown
Now each theologian was shown a crown they once might have worn:
- A cardinal’s red hat
- A reformer’s chair
- A revolutionary’s manifesto
- A party’s endorsement
- A president’s hand clasped in prayer
Christ appeared—not as Lamb now, but as the crucified King.
He wore no crown but thorns.
Augustine dropped his scroll.
Luther lowered his gaze.
Calvin took off his robe.
Gutiérrez removed his stole.
Barth folded his manifesto.
Bonhoeffer whispered:
“Forgive us, Lord—not for silence, but for shouting in the wrong name.”
Epilogue: The Kingdom That Comes
Christ now spoke—not in thunder, not in policy, but with wounds.
“My Kingdom is not of this world. But it is for it.”
He held no sword.
No policy.
Only pierced hands.
And the theologians knelt—not as philosophers, not as leaders—but as servants of the Kingdom.
One by one, they answered:
“Thy Kingdom come.”