I had the chance to revisit a very special place today. There was a lunch time, Good Friday service at 61st Street United Methodist Church, a church where I served from 1978 to 1980. This was the first church I served in, other than my home church, and ran the circuit with Bro. Jim Hobgood. It was the church where I rededicated my life on March 25th, 1979, and felt my heart turned within me. I learned spiritual Joy, and learned spiritual warfare. I learned that prayer was more than just words, and that no sin is greater than God's love.
The church history goes back more than 100 years in that same location, and has been a fortress of service for the poor, elderly, and world beaten of West Nashville. Two of their ministries, a Hispanic outreach that serves there, as well as a Christmas Last Minute Toy Shop for parents that wouldn't be able to give to their children otherwise, are highly recognized for their service to the community.
The church's last service will be in June of this year. They are being closed, shut out by the "revitalization" of the neighborhood. The alter where I truly gave my heart to Him, the piano I played for hours are still there, for now. The clock on the wall that Jim Hobgood frequently ignored, still hangs. The stories and tears of over 100 years of saved souls are still in those walls. But where once, families with little income had a chance to at least have a home, they are pushed out on all sides by $400K "Monopoly" houses crammed in two and three to a lot. As these families are pushed away, those the church has served are diminishing in number.
I spoke to the Hispanic leader there, Rev. Miriam Cortez, and shared my memories of the church, and was joined by another member, whose history goes back over 60 years there, and her parents before her as well. I know there are other church locations out there, but this was her home, and to lose that is to lose just a piece of yourself. The pastor said they are still looking for a place to serve, as the ministry is so vital, especially for the multitude of children there. She says they are prayerfully hopeful. I join with them in prayer.
But all is not sad. Many souls were saved within those walls. Many souls were re-claimed, like mine. And for every life reborn, others outside those walls came to know Him, too. Ministries come and go, but the touch of God's hand is forever. Out of death, comes life. This is the Easter Story. Without the Cross, there is no empty tomb. From the passing of this small church on the corner of 61st Street and New York Avenue, may life burst forth. It's Friday, but we pray for Sunday. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment