Trinity Presbyterian Church
 

We have been going through a big project here at Trinity church, getting our building ready to share with some wonderful new ministries. That has meant cleaning out some storage areas, going through boxes of files, supplies, memorabilia, and a few unrecognizable oddities. A few things we have had to fondly let go of—anybody need some orange kid-sized choir robes? Other items will be donated to other churches, and yet more stuff will be sold in a massive parking lot sale later this summer. A few finds seemed like they could be exhibits from a museum of obsolete technology—there were tons of VHS movies, and a box of reel-to-reel tapes. I also found a set of filmstrips –a form of teaching technology I am pretty sure was used by Moses to share the 10 Commandments.

 

All of these stuff speaks to the way churches can be a little slow to change. We hesitate to jump on every trend, we want to be thrifty with the money we are trusted with, so we hang on to stuff hoping we will find another way to use it.

 

But the humble artifacts we are uncovering also speak to another truth about churches, that our buildings and the material objects they hold are a physical expression of a divine reality—that the Spirit of God does not live far off in a remote heaven, but right here in the dust and drama of everyday life. Churches have the job of helping people see the grace around us. We seek to be a place of nurture, healing, and friendship. We teach and preach the stories of Jesus and his radical transforming love.  And sometimes that wonderful work involves hula hoops and crepe paper streamers and tons of crayons. It isn’t actually the stuff that makes the work glow with an inner light, it’s the spirit of the people who show up and share of themselves. But sometimes the stuff is a tangible reminder of what we learned, what we shared, and how much it matters to have a place to grow. For all the stuff of church life and the goodness it represents--thanks be to God.