Thursday, August 6, 2020
What We Miss About Church: Congregant Reflections
For our devotionals this month, we asked various congregants what they miss the most about being together.
Join us for this series of reflections that remind us of what we miss and who we are called to be.
Scripture for the Day
2 Timothy 1:3
I am grateful to God—whom I worship with a clear conscience, as my ancestors did—when I remember you constantly in my prayers, night and day.
What an interesting assignment, to write about what we miss about attending church in the 102-year-old sanctuary at the corner of 16th and Peachtree streets. I am reminded of being a squirming 7-year-old, wondering when that man standing above us would ever stop talking.
Of course, the right answer is the people, and I do miss them, especially those who gravitate to the right side of the right center aisle. But I confess that I miss the building. Being in that sanctuary reminds me of the generations that have come before me bound by a spirit of beliefs, inquiry, and civic action.
I think about the first occupants of that space still dealing with the tail end of Spanish flu pandemic, following the Great War. The fallen from Atlanta are remembered just two blocks north at Pershing Point. I gaze up at the ceiling, just as the architects intended for us to do. I marvel at the Tiffany windows and think about the generosity of donors long past. I think about the unspeakable trauma of WWII and the impact on the families of First Presbyterian Church.
I think about the decline and then rebirth of Midtown. I think about the role of the church and its brave pastor who welcomed the faithful of the Temple after its bombing and in crafting a response to Dr. King’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” I think about one member who led Atlanta through peaceful social change through his courage and another member who had his back as a philanthropist and business leader.
I miss the wonderful people. But I also miss the building. There is much I miss about church.
