When I first moved to Nashville, I attended a large baptist church that had outgrown it’s original sanctuary. That old sanctuary stood near to the road, no longer the main campus building, it was labeled “building B”.
The 1960’s stained glass and mid-century architecture of building B melded nicely into the hillside and welcomed us up the concrete steps into classic church smells and colors. We were college kids, and we met, we learned, we worshiped, and we bonded in building B.
I drove by the church property this morning. I saw the hillside, the parking lot, and the remaining structure of the newer main sanctuary, but building B was gone. I knew that it had been removed some years ago. A new organization now owns the property and things have changed so much. It sent a wave of sadness over me, thinking back to moments of laughter and learning, standing outside the entrance among the other girls in our flower printed dresses of the early 90’s. Sunshine streaming over pastel church shoes, and cotton hems, all of us dressed for Sunday morning worship, as well as to impress the college boys who were not shy in their notice of us. I soaked in the challenges presented by our college leaders in that building. I heard their prayers over us, I muted the teachings I disagreed with and hugged the teachers tight after, because I wasn’t really there to learn new theology, I was there to draw close to God, and it was in that desire that our theologies never diverged. I learned so much of the pleasure of seeking the face of God in those years, and alongside those people, and though the church is not a building, I believe the building made a difference.
Building B was where Mama Gail gushed over our prayer life, and taught us to make a big deal of our friendships. It’s where Miss Lori introduced us to the liberty in modesty, where the two Lindas, Jeff, Robin and Debbie opened up their hearts and allowed us to see how much space we took up inside. We didn’t know then how much dirt we were bringing into the carpet of their lives, how cluttered we were making things, how much cleaning up had to be done once we stepped out of the classrooms and walked our way down the hill to the main sanctuary. They mopped up and smiled, because they really loved us. These vagabond children from north, south, east, and west, all meeting in building B as if we belonged there. I felt the safety of it, and I knew that God had established something in me that would never become soft or thin. His presence leaves a mark, and I would forever walk differently because of the encounters I had with Him.
I remember one night another student approached me, tears streaming down her face. I remember her grip on my shoulder as she begged me to walk out of the room with her to talk in the hallway outside the old sanctuary. It wasn’t a quarrel, or any relationship drama, it was God’s presence and she needed to talk to someone who understood. “You’re different,” she said…and we sat in building B, believing in that difference as acquaintance became friend. I remember a girl visiting after Christmas break our freshman year. I approached her because I remembered her from one of my classes at college. She joined me for lunch that day and we have been so close since then. She became that friend who pushed me toward things I was afraid of. She is a person who laughs well, and strikes instead of cowers when fear attempts to mug her in the street. We have stood at each other’s wedding, watched each others children grow, marveled at the strength of good husbands, and we are still cheering for each other so many years later.
Building B was the place where that church was first born. The first sanctuary, that birthed a ministry of great consequence in it’s time. I don’t know all the prayers that were prayed inside those walls, I don’t know all the disagreements and sorrows either, but I know that there was a sense of dedication within, and it remained unspoiled among all of our questions, our doubts, and our unbelief. Faithfulness grew within brick walls, and repentance shot up through disagreement and even indifference, like weeds sprouting out of cracks in concrete. When there is a place for God’s people to meet, when solid walls and glass doors are dedicated to welcoming the least of these, you’ll always find redemption is close at hand. For us, it was found in the lesser edifice, the smaller room, with the second hand sound equipment. We didn’t have all the bells and whistles to create ambience and warmth, but we had a place to be our honest selves. We had a place to encounter God where we were, and I know He enjoyed meeting us in building B.