One of our heating pipes sprung a leak this week, which means our heating system was unavailable for Sunday Morning Worship this morning. We told most of our older folks to stay home and warm, but still held worship for those who could tolerate the cold and who felt their immune systems were up to snuff.
We made concessions for the heating situation by moving to a smaller room this morning, and as I was setting up for worship 1 I had to move one of our podiums into the worship space. As I picked up this relic I wondered how old it was, and which pastors had preached behind it before I ever did. I wondered what strangers stood behind it to lead singing, read Scripture, or offer prayer long before I ever set foot in Central.
This sense of wonder expanded to include Central’s entire community space. I have always hesitated to refer to this church I pastor as “my Church.” It is, after, over 140 years old – referring to it as “mine” seems rather presumptuous. As I imagined all those who worshipped in the space before I was even a footnote on Central’s history, however, brought this feeling to a boil. So many have come before me in this place, and I am indebted to them in ways I cannot even fathom. Sure, there are many things with which I might disagree with my forerunners – but there is probably a great deal of wisdom those people could offer me as well.
I suppose this is one reason why I love history so much. Of course I critique the past, but I also learn much from it as well.
- With chattering teeth. ↩