When I rest from writing, Luther's mug pops up on the screen. They call it wallpaper in computer language. He is not smiling and not frowning. He simply peers into the future - the look of a great reformer who senses the future will be hot.

Now that All Saints Day has passed, and Lutherans have celebrated the memory of the 500-year-old Reformation of the church, it is time to get new wallpaper.

It may also be time to get a new church. I hear people talking about their search for an authentic church, one that does not tell lies and never, ever falls victim to that age-old quest for money. Oh, yes, that is still a problem in some churches.

For instance, the local church fathers and mothers may want to build a new worship building, and they need 2 million bucks in the bank before they can proceed. So they ask the faithful for donations. They tease and cajole the loyal believers, and the money begins to flow into the coffer.

But then the begging cycle continues, and the money absolutely stops. Flabbergasted religious fathers and mothers gather for a confab. Perhaps, they wonder, the most wealthy people should have been asked first, before the hoi polloi were allowed to take over the fund drive.

Someone volunteers to contact the rich people, and the money race begins in earnest. A fellow offers a field of grain, worth perhaps $5,000 in a good year. A woman says she will give a month of profits from her tire company, about $15,000. Another donates interest from his bank account, about $1,000 a month for a year. Suddenly sweet money comes from all sides, flowing like honey from a beehive.

But then, one woman, a fairly new member of the flock, calls the parson and invites him for a cup of coffee and money talk. They chat like old friends until Mrs. Bankroll suggests a change in conversation. She asks what she would have to give to have her late husband's name on the outside of that new building. How much would it take to christen the building the "Harry Bankroll Memorial Chapel"?

The pastor mentions that $1 million could buy a brass plate with just those words engraved in the shiny finish. They shake hands, the fund drive is over and the building project begins.

Everyone is happy until reports begin to circulate that Mr. and Mrs. Bankroll earned their money as proprietors of a notorious beer joint in another state far away from the church building project. Someone on the church council decides to make some phone calls and sort of confirms that the Bankrolls not only sold beer but may have dealt in drugs, illicit sex and illegal gambling. In people's minds, it takes very little time for suspicions to become the absolute truth.

The real truth, of course, is somewhat modified from the coarse garbage circulating in the rumor mill. The real truth is, Mr. and Mrs. Bankroll owned a quiet little roadhouse on the edge of town where they sold big steaks and pitchers of beer. Once a week they brought in a dance band and the place rocked for a few hours. But for the rest of the week, it was a rather quiet and dumpy roadhouse.

After they found out Mr. Bankroll had terminal cancer, they sold out to some suspicious strangers who had $5 million dollars and a limp handshake. Before the Bankrolls left town, the quiet roadhouse had become a notorious joint with strippers, drugs sold under the table and a hot poker game in the back room. Mr. Bankroll died before the truth was known, and Mrs. Bankroll was left with a broken heart.

But no one on the building committee knows the whole truth, and the pastor is so embarrassed he's ready to leave town before the congregation drives him out on a rail.

But I ask, what would an authentic church do with that money? Is it tainted and, therefore, useless? Should it be given back or kept to build the sanctuary? Should the building project be abandoned? What would the ethical path be for the church?

I'm eager to hear how you figure out this tragic situation. What should an authentic church do in this situation?

Clark D. Morphew