I Miss My Church

I miss my church. Not necessarily the building, but the church family.

I miss welcoming smiles,

hugs from one very special lady,

our son and his family on the same pew,

holding a hymn book,

singing together,

hearing Bible pages rustle as we find the scriptures,

listening to sermons in real time,

and

bowing our heads together in prayer.

I miss the closeness we feel when we gather together.

This was one of those days for chain-thinking. I started out thinking about how much I miss my church family which lead me to thinking about church buildings.

I thought about old churches with cemeteries right next door. My dad's parents and brother are buried in this cemetery.

I thought about ornate churches and . . . 

small simple churches.

I thought about crosses and steeples that lead our eyes to the skies.

I've thought about stained-glass windows and pipe organs.

I thought about churches from my childhood. When I was six my dad pastored the abandoned church pictured above, Mt. Tabor Missionary Baptist Church in Ola, Arkansas. We lived in a house trailer on the church property. That was where I learned about snakes (one was even in the church) and about rabbit hunting in the snow (we were always too noisy to even seen one!)

Many church buildings have looked abandoned lately, but the church is still worshipping only in different ways.

I pray that soon we'll be able to meet behind those church doors again.

"For where two or three are gathered

together in my name,

there am I in the midst of them."

Matthew 18:20

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A side note, I'm sad to say that none of these church buildings are where I go for worship. I don't have any pictures of my church. I must remedy that in the near future.