I spent what felt like
several years of my childhood shifting uncomfortably on the pews in our church.
We made sure to utilise them after the service for what we understood to be
their true use; a ready-made fort.
(We were not especially
pious children, I believe we were spotted playing hopscotch on the gravestones
and eventually rounded up hiding under the alter cloth)
The pews in Sheffield
cathedral were in use for 200 years. People in people out, two
centuries of worship, Pews worn from many decades of many
bottoms.
Then the change, the
cathedral was becoming a more open space, bright and welcoming. They wanted the
floor to be even so everyone could come in and take part, a fantastic project.
With no need for the
old pews, like many other churches, they sold them.
You can see these repurposed pews everywhere
now, sold to trendy coffee places and vintage shops.
Then there was us.
A new fellowship, a
fledgling family. Our home is an old bar in the shadow of the Cathedral. The
old and the new together, a fresh expression of things to come. Birthed from
the same lineage but smaller, lithe and in need of some seating.
So we went one
freezing spring morning and purchased the ancient pews. Two men to a pew we
brought them in. somehow they looked right at home there, on the beer stained
floor, covered in the dust of our building project.
I think in a way it’s
a metaphor for the church. The way we’re branching out into new and unexpected
places no longer content to wait for the lost to come to us in our towering
Stonewalls.
Instead you’ll find us in the most unlikely places, coffee shops,
warehouses and the occasional once grotty bar.
I love seeing these
old pews here. Timeless. A reminder of our rich history, of the path the church
in this nation has forged and is forging. So we will fill them once again and
they will be steeped in worship and love, life and family.
(Of course, it goes without saying that
climbing on the pews is strongly encouraged.)
