Church Anyone?

I miss my home church. 

I miss Mr. K playing the beautiful pipe organ for the old hymns.  I miss kneeling at the front of the church at the rail for communion, Pastor's direction, kneel, rise, "take eat, this is the Body of Christ given for you", Pastor's gentle touch on the heads of the children giving them each a blessing.  I miss the hymns.  I miss the angelic voices of the choir floating down from the choir loft.  I miss how they entered or exited the church for service two by two, how they'd come down for communion in pairs, always in harmony.  I miss the order of worship, the routine, the familiarness of the pews, the faces, and the ticking of the heaters in the winter or the cold breeze each time the big, heavy, wooden doors opened.  I miss the summer breeze through the small opening in the stained glass window and the reflections they cast on the church floor.

I was baptized in that church, almost 40 years ago.  I remember Sunday service, with my dad, with my mom, with my brother who would always pinch my thigh after HE had fallen asleep.  I remember nesting into my dad with his arm across the back of the pew, and stealing Freedent gum from my mom's purse.  As I grew older, I was an acolyte.  I was eventually confirmed in that church.  Easter Sundays and Christmas Candlelight services.  There is nothing more beautiful than walking out of church at midnight on Christmas Eve into a light snowfall.  I took my very first communion in that church. I attended chapel every Wednesday morning with my classmates.  My sister's funeral was held there, my niece and my nephew were baptized there, their mother and father married there, my brother and his wife were married there, my father's funeral - all these major events, held in that church.  It was home.  It was our church. 

I know that church like the back of my hand.  I know where they keep the choir robes, the spare candles, the communion wafers and the wine.  I know the hallway from the church office goes back to Pastor's office and around to the office of the elders and out the side door where the hearse awaits the casket after a funeral.  I know to watch your step as that floor is super slippery if wet.  I know where the rope is to ring the bell to start or end the service. I know you must bow upon entering and exiting the alter and that the candles are to be lit as if opening a book and extinguished as you would close it.  You hold your hands crossed over each other, out in front of you for a communion wafer as if you are receiving a gift.  You go back to your seat, solemnly, with your hands typically in prayer in front of you and you sit and quietly pray when you return to your seat.  The ushers dismiss you to go to communion and again at the end of service.  They also administer the offering.

I miss my home church.

This church we attend now, it's alright but, it's not the kind of Lutheran I was brought up as.  I don't care for praise bands who run through the same cycle of songs every few weeks.  I want to sing some hymns!  Earth and All Stars (oh my!  This sounds just like Mr. K!), Beautiful Savior,  and so, so many more.  I want to sing about the Feast of Victory for our God. I want the tears to fall (like they are now) as I think about my Dad and this religion, this church he chose for his family to grow up in.  I want to use the beautiful Lutheran Worship hymnal that I was given by my parents for my confirmation with all of the services I was taught.

I want the same Lord's Prayer I was taught in my school, complete with trespasses and those who trespass against us.  The one Our Father taught us all to pray.  The one I learned in Sunday School, in parochial school and prayed every Sunday. 

These things.  These make church to me.  The honour, the tradition. The memories of what I know.  What I was taught.  Taught to pray.  Taught to worship.  Taught to praise.

I don't want praise bands, I don't want intiction - you don't dunk the wafer into the wine!  I don't want keyboards, drum sets, projectors and microphones.  Sure, those are okay once in awhile.  I don't care if we run past an hour, or who sings too loudly.  I don't want rotating Sunday School teachers for 2 kids.  I want more!

I'm not enjoying this.  I don't like this.  I want my old church back.