One of their perceived strengths was that they had a central place in the community - well the building did, the congregation were pretty anonymous - and had been there since Simon de Fruitspoon (of the Norman conquests) had established the church in 1127. This was THE church in the area and so nothing could come between them and their future in the place for they were assured that there was enough money in the bank accounts, investments and property to keep the place going until they died (and after that it wouldn't be a problem anyway, would it?).
This remnant attended, no actually the word 'haunted' fits better here, the services and were faithful in the fact that they came, hell or high water, to their chosen service pretty much every week. They'd do their bit and then, clocking off, leave the building to the next shift who would do the same until the final service of the day was ticked off as done. Each would look back to the time when there were queues and seats were at a premium and remember when children 'behaved properly' in their suits, shirts and ties and brylcreemed hair (not like today's children - thank goodness we don't see them that much in here!).
Proclaiming their friendliness and the welcoming church that they were they bemoaned the fact that no one came to their services - after all, everyone knew where the church building was, it was one of the historic sites - and sighed as the echoes of the good old days washed over them.
The sadness was that the people were lovely and the church building was splendid and there was so much to commend and bless in them and the magnificent structures they occupied - but instead of looking out and reaching out and reinventing themselves to find a new relevance, they were content to leave it to the person at the top of the tree (although not to the person at the top of the cross) and shuffle in towards the final service; safe in the knowledge that as long as parish share could be paid they we safe.
As we drew to a close the conversation turned to rearranging the tea area to 'make it more appealing' - but the question was, 'To whom?' After all, there was only them. Then we talked about the old members (either dead or in care homes or moved in with their children) and how to make Sunday school more popular (simple answer: get some children into the place) and how well others were doing (with the implicit 'at our expense') before we finally ran out of steam and finished with the deck chairs all neatly set out as they should be.
Now this place could be any one of a number of churches I know of - there's nothing remarkable about them - and that's the sadness. Those who come to faith through them, finding any move to change gear and attitude rejected, tend to move into the 'popular churches' (something which causes the remnant to huddle together against the rising tide) and stuck increase the speed of decline and hopelessness.
The saddest thing of all was that the nightmare took place in real life - mercifully I don't have dreams like that which I relate here!!!
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| It seems that Church works best when not constrained by its buildings! |
