Forgot my Bible this morning. Don't know how that happened. Actually I do know how. I needed two trips between house and car and made only one before my husband shut the door.
I noticed what was missing as I loaded up my arms with the rest of it after parking in the church lot.
I stole into the sanctuary and swiped a pew Bible.
Its moderate wear - a few ripped and several dog-eared pages - distracted me. My Bibles aren't that way. Moreover, I am plenty experienced in the art of book repair, if only I had had a roll of Scotch Magic Tape.
In lieu of that, I undog-eared as many pages as I could. Apologies to the poor sap who regularly sits there for removing the shortcuts to favorite passages.
But I can't imagine anyone sitting there, not regularly. I tried it myself, in the balcony, extreme stage left. After the study, as I returned the pew Bible, I hung out, just to listen.
The focus of worship, I don't want to call it a "stage," was cluttered with metal sheet music stands, a drum kit, a grand piano carefully covered, amps and footlights. I could not focus there. But I am accustomed to focusing there, at an altar, a crucifix, a tabernacle. There was none of that, of course.
I'm not saying that no One was there. I wouldn't say that. I don't believe that. But without anyone there, I mean, leading worship, the space seemed empty. Calling to mind The Presence took effort.
I visited only once, on a Sat. evening. The service was geared towards younger people, replete with video and rock music. I tried to enjoy it but it was simply too loud. "Axis Denied: Willow Creek ends 'church-within-church' for 20-somethings" - CT, 9/22/06.
In the darkened, silent, sacred space, I knelt, mostly out of curiosity, to ascertain whether sufficient room for kneeling existed.
Kneeling there was comfortable enough. But I was afraid that someone would enter and catch me. I got up. And then left, wondering whether two hours spent in there might have been better than two hours at the Bible study. I'm thinking that it would have been.
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