Stained glass windows have always inspired me. Maybe that’s because the gothic style church I grew up in had such beautiful stained glass windows. A large rose window was at the front of the sanctuary with Luther’s rose at the back. One whole side depicted Moses and the prophets while Jesus and the gospel writers graced the opposite side. Smaller story windows filled in the gaps. Sitting in the sanctuary gave you a feeling of being in a very holy presence. For all the beautiful services I attended there, though, I’ve always felt that what I learned about my faith I learned in the basement.
My earliest recollections of Sunday School in the basement are of our whole second grade class carrying our little chairs and following our teacher like ducks in a row to the kitchen. Now the kitchen could be a real scary place when the big ovens were lit and a dinner was being prepared. But on Sunday mornings our teacher, dressed in hat, gloves, purse, shoes and dress to match, brought Bible stories to life. Later on I learned she tutored children with reading difficulties in her home, where she would likely be down on the floor playing with trucks and building blocks.
Junior Choir was always a highlight of my week. About 60 of us would gather on Wednesdays after school and learn our music. Bedlam reigned supreme, and I’ll never understand how we learned three-part music in that setting. We sang every month in church, wearing our choir robes – purple skirts (for both boys and girls) and white tops – all washed, starched and ironed by our mothers. We marched into the sanctuary 2 by 2, 2 rows apart and stuffed ourselves into the front pews. Even after we sang our anthem, we remained in church for the entire service, marching out in reverse order. No wonder those robes had to be washed every time we wore them.
Bible school was held for 2 weeks right after school was out for the summer. One year my father built a large sandbox, and my mother helped us make all kinds of figures with clothespins. We made tribes of Israelites and Egyptians, then led the Hebrews out of Egypt, crossed the Red Sea, wandered in the dessert, received the 10 Commandments, and entered the Holy Land – all in 2 weeks time.
As much as I remember about my time in the basement, there is one event that stands out in my mind in the sanctuary. One year at Christmas, my mother (one the church’s organists) gave me some music of a medley of Christmas carols for piano/organ duet. After looking at the piano part, I freaked out. No way could I play that music! She explained it was just arpeggios, like I do when I practice scales, but I was terrified of it. “All right” she said. “You play the organ and I’ll play the piano part.” For some reason, that didn’t scare me at all. She showed me the registrations and helped me with my part, and I even played some pedal notes for the program. From then on, I knew I wanted to play the organ in church.
So much for my stories; I bet you have many wonderful memories of events that happened as you were growing up in the church. They molded you and shaped you, inspired you and taught you about what it means to be a Christian. As awe-inspiring as stained glass windows can be, it was the people who provided the real inspiration for your life. As I look back on my 25 years here at First Church, it is the people I have met and worked with who have been my inspiration. Members and staff alike have touched me – and I have grown in faith because of you. That is what I will miss most.
I feel blessed to have served in ministry with you, and I thank God for our time together. God Bless You All!
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