Sunday, November 11, 2018

An Answer..and A Blessing

   There is a page devoted to the church (Sardis P.B.) that I wrote about a few days back.

http://hrcga.org/church/sardis-primitive-baptist/

   A reader, (thanks Jen), pointed me to this and the answer to the question about the holes in the floor in one section of the building.



   Jokingly, as I wrote last time, I mentioned that these holes in the floor could be used for spittoons if the men carried funnels to be able to hit the hole.

   Seems as though that was the use for the holes, but there was probably a big mess around the area after the service.

   After I wrote that first blog on the Sardis church, as I thought about being in that building, a scene popped into my mind, that seemed to tell me our visit to that church was not just about the old ways, but God was still in business there.

   As we looked around the interior that day, my friend quietly said to me, "This place feels Holy to me".

   I have made it a habit, when visiting churches or cathedrals, to take a minute or two sitting in the pews, or benches, or chairs, in what we would now call the sanctuary, to reflect on the many people who, over the years, had sat in those same seats and worshipped.

   What were they like?

   How did the worship?

   How did God work in lives during their days?

   But I did not do that here, until prompted by that comment. I was too busy seeing what was odd or unusual there.

   We sat on the bench and prayed, and, sure enough, found out that it was Holy and that God still honored prayers offered in His Place.

   The moral for me in all this was "Don't get so caught up in your own world and plans, that you do not pause to ask and seek God for His blessing and guidance". In a great European cathedral or even in an 1840s one room sanctuary.

   The church building may be old, and way out of style, but that has no bearing on whether or not God is still there and working in that place.

   It was, and is, a Holy place...

And we were blessed to realize that.

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