Church Sanctuary

The smell of a church sanctuary is like no other. It is the remaining aroma of lives that have worshiped before, and a holy redolence that sleeps in the wood of the pews. The walls have absorbed the breath of singing, praising, and praying for many generations; and the floors have caught the tears that have fallen.

There is a time for everything under the sun; a time to be born, and to die, to plant and to harvest, weep and dance, and the list is long. The time is not the same for everyone. Some come to worship who have stood by a grave of a loved one; while another young couple carries a new baby to its first Sunday in church. One person shows up to pray, “Jesus, I am afraid of what the doctor will say;” and another rejoices that all is well.

I have often prayed in an empty waiting sanctuary: “Please help me Lord; the people who are coming will need a word from you. Let me tell them of a Savior who is mighty to save, and a God who cares. May they know that when the storms of life are raging that you are standing by them. Wipe the tears from sad eyes, and give some peace to troubled hearts. Let Heaven and earth join hands in this place today.”

I will always believe that the greatest witness of the church is people who have gone through so much of what time brings; and yet they gather on a bright (and sometimes not so bright) Sabbath mornings at the call of the sweet ringing bells. Some are spry and happy, and others show a lot of mileage on the long road of life; and yet all sing together of a Name that they love to hear, and their love for Jesus.

“God of love, Please look down and see my people through.
I believe God is now, was then and always will be.
With God’s blessing we can make it through eternity.
Lord, dear Lord above, God almighty,
God of love, Please look down and see my people through.”