Walls

I sit in a church, a gorgeous church with walls of majestic stone, grand arches of sparkling limestone, and glittering stained glass masterpieces. This church’s beauty is almost beyond description, the medieval feel and the grandeur of a castle can only begin to describe the utter beauty. This is the type of church I have always fantasied about, the churches of legend, the grand cathedrals and castles.

So why am I crying? Why does this beautiful place make me feel so sad and suppressed?

Because, now I finally realize that it is not the walls that matter, but rather what they contain.

As I sit here on this velvet covered pew, I listen to a prayer that sounds as if it has been practiced and recited too many times to be real. I raise my voice along with hundreds of others, competing to be heard over the soloist, violinist, pianist, and organ. I listen to a sermon spoken by a rotating pastor who I won’t see again for over a month.

And suddenly, I want to trade this velvet pew for the hard pew of the church I left behind. I want to trade these hundreds of people for the dozens of people at my home church who I love to talk and laugh with. I want to trade in these majestic walls befitting fantasy stories for the simple walls of my church.

Because now I know that it isn’t the walls that matter, it’s not the walls that make the church; rather it is what those walls contain. Even the simplest of walls can hide great riches, but also, the most majestic of walls can become a prison.