A weathered rural church with peeling white paint and weeds growing up the steps, bathed in soft morning light and surrounded by a misty treeline, evoking a sense of quiet abandonment and forgotten worship.

‘How Have You Loved Us?’

The walls still stand, but the worship has grown quiet. Malachi speaks into a silence built by generations who kept the temple but forgot the fire. God’s love has not changed, but His people have drifted. The burden of His word still falls heavy on those willing to hear.