FERRIDAY – While on a late Saturday afternoon drive I spied a carefully tended church that had a fully-paved parking lot, which made me curious.
By Karen L. Willoughby
FERRIDAY – While on a late Saturday afternoon drive
I spied a carefully tended church that had a fully-paved parking lot,
which made me curious.
I liked the idea of spending time with folks who
were so particular about the appearance of their church, and I wanted
to know if some rich person had donated the parking lot, or how did it
happen to get paved?
So I drove back Sunday morning and was about 30
minutes early for the worship service at St. James Baptist, a rural
church not even a stone’s throw from the Frogmore Plantation tourist
Adults were meeting for Sunday School in the worship
center; two children’s classes were meeting at opposite ends of the
square fellowship hall.
The younger class was learning – amazingly quietly
even in their vocalizations and rhythms – the importance of being
genuine in your praise of God.
Children from both classes began to either read or
recite what they had learned to adults sitting in church while standing
under framed copies of the Church Covenant and the Ten Commandments.
The worship hour opened with several people requesting prayer that they be strong and growing in their faith.
And through it all, first one person and then
another and another broke into a spiritual, which each time quickly was
taken up by the rest of the congregation. I loved the connectedness I
felt in this congregation.
About the parking lot: grass kept growing on it no
matter what was used, so the pastor asked those with the means to do
so, to give sacrificially.