The Condition of the Church

As we turned left onto Palmyra Road, I saw an unusual and seemingly out of place structure:  just sitting on the other side of the tree line was the Palmyra Community Presbyterian Church.  We were only a few miles outside of Vincennes, in the rich farmland and beautiful rolling hills of western Indiana.  Nestled within the huge old trees sat a church—red bricked, with stained-glass and a bell tower standing as high as ever, but with a sad and wanton appearance of abandonment. 

As we parked our motor home in the beautiful cleared grove next to the parcel that contained the old church, I could not stop thinking of that great testament of faith and community – just sitting there forsaken and forgotten!  Then, as I began to ask about the church, I learned that it had been unused for almost twenty years.

Today we took a few minutes to explore the old cemetery and look around the building. Some of the head stones were nothing less than fascinating.  One was reminiscent of a man from Liverpool born in the 1700’s. Then there was the ten-month-old baby from the 1800’s and several more. But my mind continued to contemplate the church.

 

Its cornerstone bore the date of 1892. The stained-glass windows were as beautiful as any in the world. There were not more than two alike in the entire building. The bell tower still contained the bells of the original design. I found a window with one small pane broken out and used my camera to capture what remained on the inside. I saw pews, instruments, carpet, stained wood, books, an American flag, and a pulpit. But I also could not help but see what used to be.

  

My mind went back to how it must have been 116 years ago as the excitement of the first brick was laid upon the foundation.  What it could have taken to cut and hew the great beam rafters. The homemade scaffolding it must have required to create the bell tower and steeple. I am sure everyone there would expect the church to carry on for centuries, even to continue without end.

 

* * *

My mind has fought the reality of the lonesome look of this great church. The doors overgrown by untrimmed shrubs. Doors that used to open and allow the community to hear the sound of a preacher and the resounding chorus of the choir. . . now shut.

 

The windows of stained-glass that used to allow the sunlight of a Sunday morning to glimmer in the hair of those who went to seek the Lord, and represent to the passer-by what the building was dedicated to and what the church stands for. . . now only a tribute to what used to be.   

 

The bells of marked time that used to signal the measure of a day to a people whose ears were tuned to hear from miles away the sweet sound. . . now quiet.

 

The organ and piano with hymnals opened whose sounds used to fulfill the scriptures admonishing us to praise the Lord. . . collecting dust.

 

The pulpit that once held the Word of the Lord along with the notes of a prepared minister and the perspiration of a fervent message. . .now silent.

 

* * *

My mind raced to our day and the need to pray:

 

A day when true men of God are few and far between; and the compelling desire to be the true church is in direct competition with the fleshly desire to enjoy a Christian concert and call it church. I saw today what many thought was an indestructible structure. And I fear, that without the direct help of the Lord, we too could very easily become a lonely memorial of what used to be.

 

Oh, God, do not allow our doors to become overgrown by our lack of effort to be the church you desire for us to be. Please do not let our prejudice and pretense dictate the condition of the welcome at our doors.

 

Oh, God, do not allow our windows to be just a memorial to what we used to be. Oh, that we would fall in love again with you and our hearts would be in tune with you and our bodies your temple! Oh, that we would continue to gladly display ourselves as separated and set apart from this world and unto you!

 

Oh, God, do not allow our outward sounds to be silenced by our times and the preferences of others. Oh, that we could boldly proclaim your greatness to our communities and that our families would know the certain sound of your house.

 

Oh, God, do not allow our instruments of praise to be silenced by the sounds of this world. Oh, that the voice of your people would still come up before you as a sweet savor, a welcomed accompaniment to our lives dedicated to your will and purpose.

 

Oh, God, please do not allow our pulpits to become silenced by the pop culture and faddish ministry methods that abound today.  Let us not cower to the lowly, fleshly desires of the masses and multitudes, but proclaim the truth that you are the only way. Would that our fervency for your word and your way would outweigh the pull of the flesh and its carnal desires. Oh, to preach you and you crucified, buried and alive again with all power!   In a day oh, Lord, where the call to minister in your sanctuary is drowned out by the cultural appeal for secular security, please help us! Help us so that in another 116 years, if you tarry, men will still be preaching your gospel, baptizing sinners in your name, praying for them as you fill them with your Spirit, and seeing your people live holy lives before you.  Amen and amen.