From Where I Am Seated

     The view from my place in the congregation has changed over the years and today I must speak out clearly with a determined voice.  I vividly remember the day when the church gathered to worship for the first time in the new building for which they had long prayed and tirelessly labored. They had sacrificially provided funding which reflected their commitment to a ministry which was purposely generational in scope.

     I was seated for the first time in the new sanctuary it was inspiring and emotions ran deep.  During the service, just as communion time approached, a ray of sunlight beamed through the skylight of the ceiling.  It was as though God was rejoicing with us in the celebration of this special day.  Everyone who saw the ray of sunlight will never forget that communion service.  All the engineering planning in the world, all the calculations of building placement on the site, all the architectural design hours could not guarantee that at the time the congregation gathered around the Lord’s Table on this first Sunday, a ray of sunlight would fall across me.  Though it has been many years, it seems like only yesterday.  The warmth of the glowing sun on that first Sunday was often renewed when the tender hand of an Elder standing near was placed on me and the whole congregation bowed their heads in prayer.  I had been created for a Godly purpose and each Sunday I stood ready to be used for His purpose.

     Over the years, while looking out at those who come to worship each Sunday, I have noticed a change that is far too revealing.  You see, the one who was seated next to me for so many years had been forced to leave the sanctuary years ago.  At first it caused quite a flurry of discussion which filled hours of meetings that finally resulted in me being seated alone.  Now it was my turn.  I was being moved to a place I did not want to go, a place where I did not want to be seated.  It seemed as though the warmth of the sunlight that beamed across me so long ago was now to be replaced with only a shadow of what once was.

      Throughout the years I have watched each of you grow in Christ from childhood to adulthood.  I have witnessed the absence of those who are no longer here to worship in this new building.  I can still remember the beautiful rose bud that was given to your family when you celebrated the birth of your child.  The aroma of flowers which filled the air extending the love of Christ displayed in the beauty of each opened flower.  I saw the tears run down your face as you expressed unbearable emotion of the separation from a loved one. There were many meals that we have shared over the years, the reflective moments of self examination have each recalled the forgiveness of sin through the blood of Christ.  Reflecting on those things for which we were created has been a blessing that carries us to a deepening purpose of not thinking of ourselves but thinking of the one who saved us by His blood. 

     Freedom from the penalty of sin is no trivial matter.  Worship overflows with praise and honor for all that Christ has brought into your life.  The oral reading of the scripture by a faithful experienced follower of our Lord still inspires and challenges you to remain steadfast in your work for Him.  For your labor is not in vain. Your forgiveness was purchased on an old piece of wood on Calvary’s hill where the sunlight of God was nailed to the darkness of sin.

     I long for the days when I was seated with a faithful elder at my side.   Standing close to me at times an aged brother’s cane would rest against me as the church intently watched him open his Bible and read of the sacrifice of Christ.   Reverently he would break the bread and pass the trays containing the bread and fruit of the vine to others who in turn would pass the emblems to each individual Christian.  Those who partook in a worthy manner would remember the body and the blood of Christ. THIS DO IN REMEMBRANCE OF ME was etched in the lives of all who gathered around the Lord’s Table.

     One Sunday, to my surprise, I looked up and saw that the pulpit was gone. My stalwart companion of many years had been removed from the sanctuary and replaced with a music stand.  That sacred desk which stood so tall and served so faithfully throughout the generations was regulated to a seat outside the sanctuary. 

     Even as ministers would come and go, the preaching of the Word of God stood strong and true. The scars on the wood of the pulpit were reminders of life changing applications and illustrations which were spoken with prophetic authority.   From that old pulpit flowed the Word of God that challenged your parents and grandparents to live a life of faith.  A blessing that still flows from their generation to yours is witnessed on the facial expressions of those who gather to worship.  Both young and old became obedient and were immersed for the remission of sins and were raised to walk in newness of life.

     I recall your great grandfather standing behind the pulpit and doing his part in challenging the church to be faithful during difficult times.  I can still hear the cry of the newborns that were proudly held by their parents as the minister asked God to help the parents raise their child in a Christian home.  Visions of your father thanking the church with tear filled eyes for their prayers concerning a special need are not soon forgotten.

     There was a time when people who came to the church approached the pulpit with a Godly fear.   Even when the custodian cleaned the building there seemed to be a higher respect given to this piece of furniture.  Now the pulpit is seated in a classroom.   When one comes home to visit the church today you will find the pulpit somewhere in the church building if you look long enough and are persistent in your search.  The location where it stood for so many generations now stands empty.  It now stands in the shadows of storage looking out of place when one enters the room.  Piled high are stacks of other items stored for a later date that never seems to come.  It’s authoritative voice is now silent and choked with dust.  The caring hands of a skilled craftsman had long ago purchased the wood and spent hours forming it carefully, coating it not only with varnish but with personal prayer as he worked.  It was indeed a labor of love given to the church he loved.  

     I did not speak out when the pulpit was placed in storage. I still heard sermons that were exceedingly challenging to those attending the worship services.  People were still coming forward and being baptized, and for that everyone rejoiced.  God’s Word was still moving among His people.  Pulpit or music stand, podium or nothing at all, the Word was still being preached and people were still being won to Lord and became a part of the body of Christ.  

     My new and changing vantage point in the worship service gives me a totally new perspective.   At times I sit along the outer edges of the pews.  At times I sit in the back of the sanctuary.  At times I stay in the foyer and never enter the sanctuary.    What is to become of the church for which I was made?   The Pulpit has been moved and now what am I to do?  Does no one care that I have a place in the worship service?  

     The Words of Jesus, “this do in remembrance of me” are etched in your mind as you listen to the communion meditation.  For me, they are etched in my faceplate, carefully carved in the wood that makes me into the table on which the communion trays are placed.  I am the same table where so long ago the sunlight reflected the light of heaven on that first Sunday in your new sanctuary. 

       I am saddened just now, for hot coffee was just spilled on me and left a stain deep in my finish.   This is not what I was created for.   Will you seat me again in the Sanctuary?   Please!

Paul D. Sisson