There’s something divinely holy about an empty church.
It’s always so silent.
Instead of talking, laughter, solemn prayer, or ancient hymns it’s simply quiet. Peaceful.
It feels like a sacred silence I’m not supposed to break.
It’s the kind of silence that I want to sit and listen to—because it’s silence with a sound. The sound of silence. Thanks, Simon & Garfunkel.
Being a PK for much of my childhood (Pastor’s kid. If you know, you know) I often experienced the strange phenomenon of an empty church. Trailing after Dad as he walked to his office. Helping pick up chairs after an event. Slipping new connection cards into the backs of chairs after each service. All these things left plenty of opportunities for me to experience the holy, quiet desertedness of a church building after all the people were gone.
I’ve always wondered if God’s presence is more potent in the church building. Sure, it’s just a building, and we know that the church is not a building but a community of souls. Besides, God is present everywhere all the time.
Yet I can’t help but wonder if a special part of Him lingers in the places where broken human hands have consecrated space for Him.
The Old Covenant is fulfilled, and yet, I wonder if faithful churches still are their own unique Holy of Holies.
For all of it’s silence, empty churches do have their sound. I love the words in Skye Peterson’s song:
head in hands I have sobbed on a pew
To the sound of an empty church.
For all their quietness, empty churches have their a sound. A sacred sound.
Maybe you should go and listen sometime.
-emma runyan
kansas kid
Love this post and LOVE that song - one of my favorites by Skye.