A CHURCH closes
The day time stood still… or did it? By Roxanne Drury I recently learned that a church I attended for about 15 years was closing its doors. The congregation had dwindled down to about 20 people, and the church was no longer able to support itself. This was a very sad situation much like many churches are going through now with the pandemic. I called the current pastor and inquired about all the “stuff ” that was in the children’s area of the church, some of which I had donated during my time there. Some of the items would be very useful for my latest adventure at the time which was opening a preschool. He encouraged me wholeheartedly to come take anything I had donated that I could use – for which I was very grateful. I had not attended the church for at least 13 years, maybe more. As I wandered through what used to be Roxanne the children’s area of the building, I was amazed to see that the bulletin boards I put up over 13 years ago were still gracing the walls. The signage I put on the doors well over 13 years ago was still there. The little dragonfly magnets I made with the kids at my last VBS with them were still gleefully poised on the side of the metal file cabinet. The desks and tables that once belonged to my own children were still there: the cabinets – still there; the 3-drawer plastic containers I put in each room for supplies – still there; the border around the windows and the clingy fish – still there. The twirly ceiling hangers and the 3D sun still swayed from the breeze as I opened the classroom door. The incomplete stencil I started in the preschool room – still incomplete. The banner I
made and hung in what was at the time the children’s church room was still hanging in the exact same spot. Everywhere, I saw things I had done to bring life to our children’s ministry – still there, but now, lifeless and looking as though they had been lifeless for a long, long time. I couldn’t help but wonder why it was all still there, just as I left it. It was almost like being in the Twilight Zone and I kept thinking Rod Sterling was going to announce that time had stood still in this old church building. Perhaps no one for all those years I’d been gone was willing or had the desire or inclination to change anything. I saw fading colors that were once bright and beautiful. Drawers in disarray that were once organized and functional. Cabinets that once housed craft items that encouraged creativity and taught kids through art Drury about God’s love, now empty but for a few broken crayons and strewn with torn paper and disheveled baskets. And I wept. I cried for all that building meant to me and so many people. I cried for the waste of it all. I cried for God’s house. I cried for the lovely memories I have from my years in that place, and I cried for what it was now. I couldn’t help but think, WHY? At one time, this was a thriving, loving, God-honoring church. Then it occurred to me. Perhaps this is exactly what the Preacher in Ecclesiastes was referring to when he wrote, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” – Ecclesiastes 3:1. Continued on page 29
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Christian Living | September / October 2020 19
