It was a large brick building sitting on the
corner of Church and Green Streets. By
today's standards, it wasn't a large building, but to me it was huge. The sanctuary had the beautiful oak worn
pews, but the view inside was magnificent.
The raised choir loft was situated just under a large, round stained
glass window which depicted Jesus kneeling in the garden. Sitting out there in that large room was an
awesome sight when the sun reflected just right through the beautiful
glass. At night, there would be a
spotlight behind it. As the congregation
sang, Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus, it could give you cold chills but a warm
peace. The First Methodist Church of
Swainsboro was my church.
I can't remember the number of windows on the
sides, but each one showed a different scene from the Bible and they must have
reached the ceiling they were so high.
There was a circular alter rail with padded cushions and a little tray
on the back of the beautiful worn wooden rail that held the tiny little glasses
of "wine" for communion. In
time, cushions were added to the pews and a beautiful carpet of royal
color. A large piano (where Ms. Vann
with the floppy hats) flanked the
right, just in front of the door. It led to the Sunday School rooms on that
side which were located in the back of the structure. Hanging on the wall on the left was a sign
which posted the hymns for the day.
Little narrow stairs led to the level where the rooms were and I
remember thinking it was like a cavern and sometimes felt spooky when I was
alone.
The Sunday School section had a large room filled
with little chairs and tables, where we all gathered for singing , and then we
would go to our separate rooms for our age group. Teachers would record our presence in her
little book with a check. There was a
collection plate passed around to collect our nickle. Then those dedicated teachers gave out little flyers with a Bible story and
telling us the stories in her words.
Then we prayed and marched single file up to the sanctuary for an
assembly of all classes to belt out some Onward Christian Soldiers as Ms. Mae
banged out the marching cadence. This
process continued every Sunday morning all of my life. I wouldn't take a million dollars for these
memories.
On the day
I was Baptized at eight years old, I felt a great weight lifted, and love move through my body. I felt like everything I did from then on,
was in God's hands, and all my life, I would be protected by Him, because I had made that commitment. Big Momma and Big Daddy, along with my Mother
were gathered around me and I cried. I'm
not sure why I cried, but I remember sobbing.
This morning, as the children led the service and the 3rd graders received their Bibles, my mind recalled the anticipation of receiving my
very first Bible. Like clockwork, every
year the children who were about 8 years old, received an engraved King James
Version of the Bible, presented with great pomp and circumstance by our
Preacher. As he spoke, my mind wandered
through my old church where I took my first communion, said my first Lord's
Prayer, and made my commitment to follow the teachings of Jesus. I wondered where my old Bible was probably
with some childlike scrawling inside of various names or verses. I hope my children will appreciate it. I'm several Bibles down the road now.
Today's sermon was from Matthew 14, basically
where Jesus tells the Disciples to trust in Him. It encouraged me to focus on what I trust and
believe. He didn't tell them to ignore
the winds and waves, but to trust that He would save them. He told them to turn away from uncertainty. There is a bright message for me in this
passage which, if I look carefully and open minded, I find that no matter what
happens that makes me afraid of life's situations, whether personal or global,
if I turn away from my faith, I'll sink.
