They say everybody’s got to be from somewhere, and for me, the village of Altona, Illinois is my home town and Immanuel Lutheran Church is the first church I ever called a home church. Built by Swedish immigrants, Immanuel Lutheran Church truly is a very beautiful church and the sanctuary has such excellent acoustics that I have frequently sung solos there without a microphone.
We came back to Immanuel yesterday to present at Sunday School and the main service. “Oh, you’re Jean Young; you’ll be up in the parish hall,” a twelve year old boy told me as I checked out the basement meeting area. “Here’s how you get there.”
“Honey,” I said, “I was here before this part of the church was ever built!”
It’s true. Before there was a new addition with many Sunday School rooms, we all attended Sunday School in curtained-off side areas in the parish hall. When I go to the display of photos of confirmation classes, I can find photos of my grandfather and his siblings, my dad, and my confirmation class and those of my brothers.
When I walk through the church, I am comforted by ghosts. If I go to the kitchen, I remember ladies who were bearers of delicious cookies and sweet rolls for Vacation Bible School. When I walk through the north side on the way to the sanctuary, I remember when choir robes for junior and senior choirs hung there. I remember choir anthems. I remember my mom singing solos. I remember candlelight services on Christmas Eve. I remember those from three generations back who sat in those pews and exactly where they sat.
Yesterday, we sat close to where Carl and Amelia Swanson of my grandparents’ generation, sat for years, right up at the front on the pulpit side. We sang familiar hymns and liturgy, I read the Gospel, gave the Children’s Sermon, and then gave part of the message.
I could look up at the balcony where my brothers and I used to sit as long as we would behave ourselves. I could hear echoes of anthems and hymns, echoes of John Stainer’s cantata The Crucifixion. I have great photos of the church decorated for Christmas from that balcony.
Yesterday, I spoke words I felt God wanted me to say, but what I did not say is this: TREASURE THE PLACES YOU COME FROM! NEVER BE ASHAMED OF SMALL VILLAGES, OF LITTLE CHURCHES, OF HUMBLE BEGINNINGS! ALL OF THESE THINGS ARE MORE PRECIOUS THAN YOU CAN POSSIBLY IMAGINE! NEVER TAKE THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU FOR GRANTED, FOR ONE DAY, THEY WON’T BE THERE ANY MORE! TAKE PLENTY OF PHOTOS BUT MAKE SURE ABOVE ALL ELSE THAT YOUR MEMORIES ARE ENGRAVED ON YOUR HEART, FOR THERE THEY CAN REMAIN FOREVER! LOVE NEVER DIES!
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