The Church

I stepped into the cool of the church's sanctuary, drawn by the stonework, the over-arching woodwork, the carved oak pews, the ornamental lectern and pulpit, and the stained glass windows, shaped like arched doorways.

If icons could speak, those in this room called me to sit quietly. To kneel in prayer. To become immersed in the presence of the Holy Spirit.

And so I did, right here in St. Francis Episcopal Church in downtown Rutherfordton, North Carolina.

Then, when the time came to write about Ashlynne Rothschild's first steps into the church she would visit while living in "Testament" (The Road to Testament Abingdon Press, 2013), I wrote:

The inside of the church was not what I’d expected. The stonework and arches gave the sanctuary a gothic appearance. Short pews—hard and shiny with age—formed rows of moderate length. The end of each pew had been cut high and carved like rolled scrolls. A center aisle, carpeted in red, led to a prayer altar of dark wood. Beyond it, an ornate lectern, and beyond that a floor-to-ceiling stained glass window. On both sides of the sanctuary, dimly lit by antique brass chandeliers, arched stained glass windows. Some depicted saints such as John, Peter, Paul, Francis. Others shared stories our faith is established upon—Moses and the Hebrew children crossing the Red Sea, Ruth gathering wheat, David slaying Goliath, Jesus raising a child from the dead. Jesus, Himself, ascending into heaven.   

I inhaled deeply. The scent of lit candles and polished wood rushed my senses. This was … lovely. Reverent and sacred. 

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But this was only the inside of the church ... the outside of the fictitious church, her history and the cemetery beyond ... that came from another location in Rutherford County ...