FROM REVEREND ROBIN                                                                 

A SERMON I PREACHED RECENTLY      

I have had to think a lot these last few weeks about our church buildings. I have had meetings in Blisland Church, Helland, St Tudy, and St Mabyn regarding work that needs to be done. These beautiful buildings are incredible, they have stood for centuries offering a place of rest for the weary, a glimmer of hope to the hopeless, a place of prayer and worship, summer fetes, weddings, baptisms and funerals, and just a little bit of donkey poo over the years.

It is an honour and a privilege to worship in them, but my goodness they are a burden. Towers reaching up to the sky, visible for miles, housing the bells that are rung echoing the prayers across the village, are crumbling. Pews that hold so much history, hundreds of years of people sitting uncomfortably, children fidgeting, picking at the grain, marking initials into the wood, prevent any real use of space in an otherwise large open area. And ceilings, with their beautiful beams, highlighting the incredible workmanship and architectural design are falling down in great clumps of horsehair and plaster.  Beautiful but burdensome. Elegant but expensive. Sacred but stressful.

Now, before anyone starts worrying that I am going to advocate for the closure of these buildings I am going to say my point is quite the opposite. When we and I mean all of us, first arrived at church, not today but maybe your first visit as an infant, or when you first moved into the village, or maybe if you’re here on holiday. We have entered a space that has been loving cared for by people for hundreds of years. Throughout the centuries people have come through those doors and thought, how can I make this place the best place for people to worship in? At St Mabyn a decision was made to take out the pews, to put in a kitchen. At St Tudy some people thought about the music system, the organ, the glass doors giving view to the bell tower. Blisland has its incredible rood screen, Helland has its hand-made flags from the village hanging from the ceiling, St Breward has its toilet and Michaelstow has its heating system, and Temple, well Temple might not have electricity or running water, but it was completely rebuilt stone by stone in order for people to continue to come and worship.

Everything we do is to keep these buildings alive for those who will come after us. And it is expensive, it is stressful. There are times when it would be much easier to put up some metal poles and pray for a lightning strike so we can claim on insurance (Just to say if there is a lightning strike now, I promise you it wasn’t me!). But it is so that in another seven hundred years people can sit where we are sitting, can worship where we are worshipping, and can pray where we pray. To the same God who was there at the beginning, is here with us now, and will be with them when they get here. Our eternal Father does not leave us but is with us throughout it all.

Jesus said, ‘when you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbours, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.’ It is for the poor, the blind, the crippled, and the lame that we keep these buildings going. And by that, I mean, these buildings are for everyone. When there is nowhere else to go these buildings should be open. We should be in here praying for everyone, the bells should be ringing so all who hear them know they are being prayed for. We are not a club for the wealthy but a hospital for the sick. And I’m afraid to say, we are all patients when it comes to Church. We are all in need of help no matter our status.

These buildings will cost thousands to keep going, and I’m certain, in a few years’ time, they will cost thousands more. And yes, the money raised could go to a charity as a one-off donation, some people say that these old buildings are too much of a financial burden to keep going and with the ever-increasing cost of insurance and electricity it doesn’t make much financial sense but that is not why we are here.

We are here for the anonymous person who was at their wits end walking aimlessly thinking about ending it all when they found the church open and sat. 

We are here for the grieving widow who comes to remember. For the mother who lost their child. For the schoolboy who heard about a perfect Father in heaven when theirs is far from perfect.

For the couple about to get married.  The parents wanting to baptise their child. The pasties. The cream teas. The fellowship.

And in all of that, alongside everyone who enters these doors, in every song, in every prayer, God is with us. That is why we raise the money for a tower that will cost thousands, a roof that will leak again, and a ceiling that will continue to crumble. It is not for us to sit back and marvel at what a wonderful thing we have done, or to be commended on a job well done. But for the people we will never meet, who have not even been born yet, who will come in this church, sit, pray, cry, laugh, rejoice, celebrate, worry, or grieve. Alongside all those who have done the same thing in the centuries past. With God at their side. 

Amen