Church Iconic

      Whatever your church building looks like; cathedral, renovated retail/office space, little white chapel, traditional or modern; it is simply an icon that when opened up represents a wealth of things. I had the great honor of going back to my hometown of Houston, Texas and celebrating with 500 or more others the 50th Anniversary of the church where I spent the first 18 years of my life.
     Walking through the doors of that building always floods my mind with sweet and precious memories. Even if I had been the only person there that day I could have walked through each hallway and seen the faces of men and women who taught me what it was to love and serve my God. I could walk into the original sanctuary and picture the face of Pastor Pate and the man who lead the choir, John C. I can still see the face of Pastor Sewell as I walked the aisle that September Sunday in 1974, with my daddy holding my hand, and hear his voice in my ear as he lead me to my Savior. I can turn and face the crowd of people and see those who would, over the years, teach me in Sunday School. Like Sandy, who taught me to pray; Mrs. "Willie" Williams who taught me what it looked like to be in love with Jesus and Mrs. Futch who showed me grace and kindness and tempered beauty.
     As I leave the chapel and walk through the courtyard from the older building to the newer I remember running and playing in the half completed structure with Skip McGowan, Lance Wiles, and others who as we grew older would encourage each other and shoulder each other up through the perils of adolescents. Then if I were to walk by the choir room where I spent the majority of my youth I would be overjoyed with the memories of so many others that like me loved music and worshipping God with that music. Ah, but I bore you, dear reader, my point is that the building only symbolizes the people, who in turn represent our God.
     My heart hurts for those who have sullied memories when they picture or enter the church of their youth. It is a fact that as long as people sin there will always be imperfections in a church, and there will be hurts and pains that leave scars because of the tender nature of our spirits. I am most blessed to have had good representatives of my Father's love, a strong teacher in the Pastor of my youth, and consistent Christ examples at home. I thank God that he has given me such treasure and that this October weekend I was able to refresh the faces in my memory banks and see so many people dear to my heart. I longed for the faces of many who have moved on to Heaven and rejoiced in the grace of God that nursed my faith in this place and then allowed me to return to those cherished memories if only for a few precious hours.