the scent of Home...
i've heard people say that there's nothing like the smell of their 'home church'... when i hear this, in my mind i see a church out in the country with wood pews and a cemetary littered with stones engraved with the names of the relatives of the people sitting in those wood pews. the scent is something of must and mold, time and history, fried chicken and homemade pies, boyscouts and dusty organ pipes, love and anguish, God and history.
i never really grew up in a church like that. most of the churches that i grew up in were big churches. plenty of history and friend chicken to smell of, but the smallness to get in close enough to whiff the scent of God always seemed lost on me. the building was too big, too crowded, in too much of a hurry.
i was in the sanctuary of my huge church on thursday night. i was laying on my belly on the stage and i was praying. i folded my arms in front of my head and rested my forehead upon them so that the tip of my nose was touching the burgundy carpet. i inhaled. and i couldn't believe what happened. in a moment, i was transported to standing on the spot of barren earth that used to be underneathe this carpet and concrete, and remembering the dreams and hopes of what this church would become. in a moment i was reminded of all of God's promises delivered to my heart and to the hearts of the people i love as we sang and cried and played and smiled in His presence while standing on this carpet. i inhaled peace, music, my fingers praying on ivory... bruce, matt, joel, michelle... the hotness of the lights when they first come on... people moving to the Table to taste a morsel of His grace, people coming closer to find Him somewhere up above this carpet... i inhaled my God, i found my home.
it was faint, and buried deep under the new-carpet smell, but it was the scent of time passing by rapidly and history being made right before my very eyes as i dawdle and complain that i can't seem to find God in all of the chaos. i realized... the scent of God lingers in all of His churches. it really is a shame that we inadvertantly blame Him for making them too big or too crowded or too busy. we are the ones that are too big, too crowded, and too busy to just bury our noses in the deepness of Him.
so breathe deep. find your home and breathe deep. God is there.
i never really grew up in a church like that. most of the churches that i grew up in were big churches. plenty of history and friend chicken to smell of, but the smallness to get in close enough to whiff the scent of God always seemed lost on me. the building was too big, too crowded, in too much of a hurry.
i was in the sanctuary of my huge church on thursday night. i was laying on my belly on the stage and i was praying. i folded my arms in front of my head and rested my forehead upon them so that the tip of my nose was touching the burgundy carpet. i inhaled. and i couldn't believe what happened. in a moment, i was transported to standing on the spot of barren earth that used to be underneathe this carpet and concrete, and remembering the dreams and hopes of what this church would become. in a moment i was reminded of all of God's promises delivered to my heart and to the hearts of the people i love as we sang and cried and played and smiled in His presence while standing on this carpet. i inhaled peace, music, my fingers praying on ivory... bruce, matt, joel, michelle... the hotness of the lights when they first come on... people moving to the Table to taste a morsel of His grace, people coming closer to find Him somewhere up above this carpet... i inhaled my God, i found my home.
it was faint, and buried deep under the new-carpet smell, but it was the scent of time passing by rapidly and history being made right before my very eyes as i dawdle and complain that i can't seem to find God in all of the chaos. i realized... the scent of God lingers in all of His churches. it really is a shame that we inadvertantly blame Him for making them too big or too crowded or too busy. we are the ones that are too big, too crowded, and too busy to just bury our noses in the deepness of Him.
so breathe deep. find your home and breathe deep. God is there.
posted by Anonymous at 12:30 AM
3 Comments:
What a beautiful picture you've painted.
Thanks for the word on Anne Lamott--I thought it came out later this month. I bought it today. I basically had to since I finished Blue Like Jazz last night. :)
I can SO remember the smell of church, but it was from the church basement that it came. The basement of Christ Lutheran Church in Maple Plain (and many other Lutheran church basements, I've been in many, they all smell the same). I think it's a mixture of musty basement air, old hymnals, Folgers and home cooked grub.
Smell triggers memories, memories (if used well) trigger reflextion, reflextion (if used well) reveals God's intentions for the past and the present. As for the future, He likes to hang on to the future for Himself in hopes that we will trust Him with it.
Smell helps us remember... remember God's faithfulness... which (if used well) helps us enter into and enjoy the rest of right now and trust that it all DOES make sense somehow (if we allow it).
What a beautiful piece of writing Ashley, it's helping me smell God's goodness.
Your friend,
Bruce Balgaard
I loved your story. I'm so glad even big rooms can become home. I feel that too (although I haven't figured out the exact smell thing). Keep on listening, watching--and waiting for the scent of God.
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