I was wrapped in a blanket of peace and confidence as I entered the church. Thank you, all who prayed. It's an old Anglican church built in the 1800's with wooden pews, fold down, padded kneeling thingies, a cathedral ceiling, and beautiful stained glass windows. A piano was playing in the background as the women filed in but I noticed an ancient pipe organ to one side. It was a small group representing the various Anglican churches. Everyone expressed a great deal of joy in seeing each other. They all made me feel most welcome.
There was a communion service before the meeting. I remember dreading those as a child. They seem to last forever. That was when we had to kneel for the entire time the congregation filed to the front. It wasn't unheard of for one of the choir to drop like a stone in a dead faint. I don't think Children's aid would allow that nowadays.
The piano player switched to the pipe organ as we sang an old hymn to open the service. Somehow I knew the melody. It must be from my days in the church choir more years ago than I care to think about. The reverend was a man in his forties, slightly balding with a refreshing sense of humour and gentle way of teaching.
I took communion with the ladies which involved walking up to the front, kneeling, with palms crossed and facing upwards to receive the host. The ritual was something that also came from the dusty halls of memory. Another reverend from one of the other churches came with the wine in a single goblet. As much as I enjoy the way my own church does communion with the passing around of the elements so everyone can consume them at the same time, there's something special in coming humbly on my knees for these most precious of gifts.
When the ladies had completed their short business meeting, it was my turn to speak. It went well and was well received. After I'd completed the talk about the Krasman Centre, it was wonderful to add a short, personal testimony of how important the Lord is in my life.
As the meeting closed, the president of the ladies group commented that I had been the only speaker ever who had joined them for the service. It makes me doubly glad I went when I did.
During lunch, I had a chance to talk to the visiting reverend. He heads the church where, many years ago, I had taken a pair of autumn lambs to be part of a nativity play in the old drive shed behind the church. We shared a moment of smiling recollection because that was the last time the church had done anything like it. It was the one where the young bull sang along to "Silent Night" and had instantly transported me to another stable in Bethlehem. It was a seed moment because I had yet to dedicate my life to Christ. That would come a few years later.
So, despite another heavy cold filling my lungs and sinuses, modern medicine got me through without too much sputtering or snuffling. I hadn't wanted to cancel at the last minute and thankfully was at the end of the line for communion. I pray the cold won't spread to anyone else.
"Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has already accepted your works." Eccl 9:7
The Black River is a journey in faith. It delves into an exploration of life: from the calm, clear waters of the good days, the mundane, to the swirling eddies and deep waters of issues that face every one of us. Thank you for visiting this site. You can contact me personally at: godandtheblackriver@gmail.com
Sunday, 24 May 2015
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Glad to know it went well. Blessings.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteIt is encouraging to look back at the seed moments. Our steps are directed by the Lord. Glad the speaking went well. It sounds like the Spirit went before you, with you and will follow you.
ReplyDeleteAnd may He be with you also!
Delete