Thoughts on the Closing of a Church
Tomorrow will be the last service at the church I grew up in. St. James Anglican, Merritton decided some time ago to shut the doors. The congregation has become too small for them to support the work of that ministry. Even though it has been close to twenty-five years since I was a part of that congregation and around ten years since I attended a service, I feel quite sad.
I have many great memories from my time at that church. I of course don’t remember when I was baptized there. Even though I am now a Baptist and practice believer’s baptism by immersion, I don’t minimize the importance of what happened when I was a baby. A decision was made to raise me as a Christian and that decision bore fruit.
I have many memories of being a part of that church as a child. There are hymns that still bring back my dad’s voice sitting beside me in the pew. I remember going up to the front for the children’s story and going downstairs for Sunday school. I can remember snippets of those lessons, including drawing a picture of what I thought God looked like (He had the body of Jesus and the head of a cloud). I also remember watching my first ever rented movie at that church. They had to rent a film projector and a roll of film from the library. It all seemed so high tech.
I can remember various ministers at that church investing in my life. I don’t remember Peter Smith (the same name as my best friend at the church) who baptized me. The minister that I first remembered was Ken Patterson. In fact I have a copy of the Book of Common Prayer signed by Ken Patterson sitting on my desk at Queen Street Baptist Church. Jim Powell was another minister that meant a lot. I recently had the chance to have coffee with him as he lives not far from where I do. The minister who was there when I left was David Hamilton. He was the minister who was there during my confirmation. Years after that, he invited me to help plan the services, including picking the hymns. I had no idea that I would eventually be doing that as a pastor myself. It was David Hamilton who first gave me a religious book to read. It was Always on Sunday by Tom Harpur. Who would have guessed that I would eventually write a book in response to Harpur? He didn’t agree with my decision to leave the Anglican church, but I’m still thankful for the opportunities that he gave me.
I was never just a pew sitter at St. James. I was a sidesman (usher), a server (altar boy), reader, chalice bearer and spent time in the junior choir. I even rang the church bells on Sundays. It was while serving at St. James that I realized that I no longer believed in Christianity, which led me to atheism. But when my faith in God was rediscovered, St. James was still there to welcome me. I remember the first Sunday that I really believed the words of the liturgy of the prayer book. It was an amazing feeling.
I’m sad that St. James is closing. But the truth is, every church will close eventually. Even the largest and most exciting church in our city will eventually close. The church which was the church when I was in my twenties, is now closed and another church uses its building. What matters is that churches make the biggest impact that they can with the time and resources they have. St. James had an impact on me and it is spilling out into my ministry at Queen Street Baptist Church. I pray that the ministry that is taking place at Queen Street will also have an impact on lives. In the end, the mission of the church is simply to be faithful with what God gives us.
