Centennial Church of Complacency

It sits in the middle of a rural town, all but forgotten. Cracks in the stained glass windows, paint chipped away from the long boards that frame the structure. Shaggy bushes and bedraggled flower beds all but choked out by the weeds surround the perimeter. Dry patches dominate lawn where once children searched for hidden Easter eggs.  The sign hangs by one rusted chain, its other corner drooping, swaying in the wind. A stately bell tower sits perpendicular to the church; it has been a very long time since the bell has been rung to call anyone to worship. 

If you discovered the building off some long forgotten highway, in the middle of nowhere you might surmise this was a church of bygone years. But this church sits in the middle of a rural town. A school overflowing with students is only 2 blocks away. A census count from two years previous states a population of 2000. 

The church has died and no one seems to have even noticed.

Built over 100 years ago by the very pioneers who attended there, it served as house of worship, school house and community center in its prime. A small wing once housed the library. The pioneers had children and those children grow up and had children and the Sunday School room was ever populated. Church was something everyone did come Sunday and there was no excuse, save death, to not be there. 

But somewhere along the way, things began to change. A family moved away. Grown children left the valley in search of something better. The people changed but the worship service stayed the same. For everyone who left, there wasn’t someone new to take their place. Slowly, slowly the church began to decline. People left and only returned for funerals, weddings, or community celebrations. 

One hundred years. It operated as a church for one hundred years. And I am sure those pioneers never imagined their church would cease to function. But under closer inspection, the church as they intended it to operate has not ceased. It was built, this church, to function as a building and as a building it still does its job. But for the church as a body of believers, it died far before its 100^th birthday.

It has been said that a church that remains inside its four walls is no church at all. We are called to be salt and light to the world. The church lost its salt. It hid its light. They wanted to play it safe. They wanted to be comfortable. They wanted everything to stay the same. But nothing does. Nothing can. Not if you want to survive. We must always be evolving. We must be about doing. 

So, it sits in the middle of this rural town, all but forgotten. People walk by, glancing disinterestedly in its direction. Not even curious as to why the church has closed its doors, perhaps not even aware that it has closed. 

Will the last parishioner to leave please turn out the lights.