The church

I occasionally dip into Roddy Hamilton's blog. This particularly struck me and I thought I'd share:


There once was a church and it was a glorious building in it's day. It's ceiling arched over the people like praying hands as the worshiped while its enormous doors slowly swung open and church to keep the people in and the world out. A steeple reached closer to heaven than anything else and the pulpit did much the same. A communion table was made of the finest oak and pews sat row upon row for the steady stream of the faithful to gather under the reflected light from stained glass windows that told the glowing story of the saints of old, halos in tact and eyes as blue as the sea.

The church stood as a symbol of all that was worthy. A well maintained building with a congregation who cared about what people thought, and who provided a generous welcome to anyone who came.
But as the years went on, passers by noticed that the building didn't look as it once did: when a panel of glass fell out of the fine stained glass windows it didn't seem to be replaced; the doors began to squeak a little with rust hinges; the steeple clock stopped and the communion table seemed to have more scratches on it each week. People commented that the church wasn't being cared for. Had people fallen out with the leadership, or had it fallen on hard times? They should take a lesson from that new youth club and the lunch group for homeless that was opening up next week. They seem to have a successful way of raising money.

As the months and years progressed the church fell into greater disrepair. Eventually the doors were hanging off their hinges, slates covered only half the roof, the pulpit had become a pigeon's nest and no one could remember the last time the organ worked. So a meeting of the town council was called about the state of the church. After all the village has a great name for it's homeless projects, it's campaign against unfair trade, it's provision for the homeless and various other projects.

At the meeting people wanted to know what had happened to the church. Why was there no pride in the building any more? Did the members not care about the village? People raised questions throughout the meeting until one of the members, an old woman whom everyone knew to be a faithful member, a caring person, a lovely lady stood up. The room fell silent.

"My friends," she said, "my dear friends, you know how dear the church is to me. You know I have been a member there all my life and I want you to know the church has never been more proud of itself in its life, because as a new repair has been needed, we decided to use that money instead to fund a new youth project, or homeless shelter. The church has given of itself to provide what the village really needed and as the communion table broke or a pew fell apart, a pipe burst or a slate fell off something else was given life. The debt to us is life for the community. And I have never been more proud of the church than I am today."
Everyone left the meeting in silence and the church in ruins stood as evidence of a community given life.