This church building is old and past the point where repairs are justified in the value added or preserved. There are signs in the ceiling plaster of leaks that will one day become disaster if left untended. In the walls beside the balcony, brick stands exposed by the absence of plaster and paint, mortar joints open.

Yet there is still beauty in the structure. The curve of the balcony, rimmed by oak trim, still holds its grace above the lower section. There is warmth in the worn and pocked pine floor, sloping down beneath oak pews toward the pulpit and podium. Sunday morning glows softly through the stained glass windows. All that is here and made by human hands speaks of age and wear and passing years.

But in the scripture songs of modern time and tempo, in the exaltation of adoration, all of that which is limited and bound is released and replaced by these witnesses of worship. Hearts are joined in stronger bonds as prayers ascend, prayers offered by strangers for one another, prayers offered by family members and spouses, prayers offered by a homeless man, sitting in the corner, made equal by faith and mercy. We stand and lift our hands toward heaven, singing of grace and glory beyond our comprehension.

In this place where even bricks grow old, we have come together for a while in this giving of praise, which will endure even beyond this world. In this, we realize communion.

H. Arnett
3/9/10