There's Hope For Todayনমুনা

G.H. Morrison could have been speaking of the church of my childhood when he wrote, “I love old sanctuaries worn by the hand of time, and the grass-grown corners where our fathers sleep. I love to worship where there are rugged faces round me that have known what tears are; where I can bow in reverence before Almighty God. I love a church mellowed and grey with years.” I returned after decades to my home church and thought of Morrison’s description, “mellowed and grey with years.” I stood in the midst of an empty sanctuary, hours before service time, and my mind was caught in a flood of memories. I heard the laughter of children, the thunder of preaching, the lively music. I saw hands raised in worship and the wonder of lives transformed. I was suddenly aware of how that place shaped me, though I had not considered it before … how the music of the church first scored my heart … how the vaulted ceiling and soaring pipes of the organ caused you to look up … how my primal thoughts of God were formed in a place where God was not merely explained, but experienced. Everybody should revisit “Bethel” – that place, taken for granted, where God was working when we were yet unaware.