This week I was accompanied by my friend Chris from Massachusetts who helped us at the Church. This morning, Resurrection Day, I ditched him early in the morning and headed for the Church. Those that know me well know that my Sunday Service usually includes a ride into the woods with my quad and a Bible.
However, today, Fletcher (my pooch) and I decided to go to the Church. I let my friend sleep in and we just hit the road. Spring birds were chirping and the sunrise was glorious. Fletcher curled up on the seat of my truck in the sun spot and I made my way straight for the upstairs Sanctuary.
I pealed back the giant pool cover that was donated to the Church to cover the pews and took my seat.
Every day I volunteer at the Church, after hearing all the different stories from locals who stop by to share their memories within the building, I continuously picture all of the souls that occupied each nook and cranny, over the past 218 years. Countless weddings, sermons and memorials were held in the upstairs Sanctuary. I see cheerful worshipers buzzing around the downstairs community room during Church suppers. I see young toddlers playing in the kids area. I see two centuries of believers walking through the front doors and ringing the bell for the Lord, each with a grand smile as their chime echos through the New Hampshire mountains and into heaven itself.
The energy of over two centuries of worshipers can be felt in every room of the building!
So I closed my eyes and praised the Lord for my life and loving me despite my sins and then I focused on those souls that would have filled the pews beside me many times over. As I interacted with the same Holy Ghost that interacted with so many before me, like every day, I could feel their energy all around me.
As the whispers of a thousand Amen’s faded to the sound of tarps rustling in the breeze, I opened my eyes and knew that the body of Christ would celebrate God’s glory within those walls for a long time to come.
I pulled the cover back over the pews and headed down the spiral stairs that the little kids called their secret path. I spent a few minutes with Fletcher and then gathered my tools from the truck and set out to meet my cleaning goals for the day.
Several hours later a car stopped in front of the Church and an older gentleman approached me. He introduced himself as Emund Bennett and went on to tell me about how his mother used to play the organ for the Church when he was a little boy. I brought him on a tour of the Church and listened as he reflected on his many experiences and the different layouts and uses of the Church’s space that he could recall.
I had a great Resurrection service and a truly blessed day. Again, I get to actually meet a fellow worshiper whose spirit connected us through the Holy Ghost.