This Is Not Glamorous

There is nothing glamorous about shutting down a church.  There just isn’t.

It’s phone calls and paperwork, emails and phrases like “now explain that to me one more time.”

It’s being calm, in the midst of chaos, when inside, you’d like to scream, kick a wall, and maybe even kick someone’s shin.  But instead, you nod reverently, smile slightly, and say, “now tell me how you’re really doing.”

It’s offices that are piled with junk…junk that no one wants to get rid of, but that no one wants.  Aluminum communion trays, gold plated vases, and ornate candlesticks… freezer ice packs, a collection of staplers, and a box full of partially used candles.

It’s watching someone else take the stuff-of-ministry to another church and it’s watching a dumpster get filled to the brim with the stuff-of-ministry that no one wants.

It’s worship, taking a back seat to management (which you swore you’d never let happen) and sermons that feel trite given the heaviness of the situation.

It’s surprises (think, coming in on a Monday morning to demolition) and disappointments (like, realizing that the All Star won’t walk back through the door when the urinal is overflowing).

It’s watching grown men wipe wetness from their eyes.  And strong women, hide their quivering lip…as they look around them and grasp the hand of the person sitting next to them in the pew.

And it’s unexpected hugs from little girls who say they’ll miss you…

There is nothing glamorous about shutting down a church.  There just isn’t.

 

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