When Abraham Kuiper visited the great old church at the center of Vienna's old city center in 1876,

he was somehow reminded of the nature of the body of Christ, the Eternal Church, not made of bricks and mortar. The topsy-turvy

adventure that the gospel inevitably spawns among believers was so oddly

paradoxical to him as that ancient structure, but not just because it was

improbably diverse yet singularly unified. It was because the whole feat of

beauty and balance was actually achieved by anonymous ordinary people.

Certainly the Imperial House of Hapsburg employed a few master craftsmen from time to time over

the years to complete one fantastic project or another in the cathedral.

But the vast majority of the construction was undertaken

by the faithful members of the congregation.

Like most of the other great Gothic architectural wonders throughout Europe, the Stephanstone plots, was built by the folks of the town.

There were virtually no professional artisans.

There were practically no renowned architects. There were no

no corporate contractors, no certified engineers, and no planning commissions.

That feat of stupendous architectural beauty was accomplished by the simple men and women at hand.

The extraordinary was achieved by the ordinary.

That, Kuiper realized, was actually the great lesson of all of history. It has always been ordinary people who ultimately

were the ones to shape the outcome of great human events. Not Kings and Princes, not Masters and Tyrants. It has always been laborers and tyrants.

It has always been laborers and workmen, cousins and acquaintances who have upended the expectations of the brilliant and the glamorous, the expert and the meticulous.

It has been plain folks, simple people who have

literally changed the course of history because they were the stuff of which

history was made. They were the ones who made the world go round, staring up

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