Here's the Church, Here's the Steeple

This old church, the stories it could tell. But what kind of stories? Rejoicing, babies born, funerals planned, sermons preached, friends made, prayers recited, confessions made. So many stories.

I'm intrigued by church buildings, especially those that have been abandoned. They once held the soul of the church, the people. Did the folks who attended get along or did they bicker. Did they serve or did they want to be served?

I've attended church in traditional buildings with a steeple, in a high school where assembly and tear down were part of worship, in a former bowling alley. I've worshiped outside and watched the sun rise over the mountain, and the water wave in the lake.

Yet, those old clapboard buildings intrigue me with their memories. My imagination goes to church picnics on the lawn, funerals where the casket is buried in the cemetery that sits on the same plot of land. Old hymns drift out windows so birds can join the melody. Hands held and heads bowed in prayer.

The church building I focus on today is an old, abandoned one. The outside looks worn out, weathered.

I'm sure cobwebs and thick layers of dust fill the pews. Like someone who has abandoned Jesus. Worn from the sin of the world, weary of life. A no trespassing sign graces the front door. No one is welcome. Sadness drapes over the building. Sorrow embraces the person who won't welcome hope.

What happened? Was the building condemned?

Did the person, whose soul weighs down with weariness of the world, give up?

The building may be a remnant of the past, but the person, the people still have a chance. Jesus waits with open arms calling the lost sheep home. He's never abandoned a soul. He waits.