My Little Old Church

I was saved in a little Pentecostal church in Keremeos, B.C., Canada.  Elim Tabernacle, an affiliate of the PAOC, was home to at least 50-60 congregational members.  There were no light shows, no dry ice smoke machines, no children's church, and no latte's at the entrance.  It was a simple, plain church, with hardwood pews and plain ordinary folk  (mostly farmers) who loved God, His Word and each other.

The music ministry team consisted primarily of two old married couples, the Millers and Rodmans, who played the piano, organ, accordion, violin and an assortment of brass instruments.   Often they were joined by the pastors and their wives and/or children, if they played.  They weren't exceptional musicians.  By any standard, they were  "rough".   I often recall how Mr. Rodman's violin wouldn't so much as "hit" a note, as slide into it.  But they all played from the heart and to honor their Lord.  They were willing and able, and God blessed us by anointing their heartfelt efforts.   

There weren't a lot of contemporary songs in our worship time.  Mostly the old hymns and revival choruses, which everyone knew and everyone sang (or, at least made a joyful noise to).  Occasionally, as a treat, a member or guest would honor us with something more contemporary.  But, we would always go back to the hymns that regaled the Master and life with Him and which we all could sing to. 

The most beautiful worship, in my mind, was when the instruments stopped, the leader turned off the mike and the congregation took over.  You could feel the waves of the Holy Spirit moving thru the congregation as all were one in songs of praise.  There were times when I imagined that this is what it must have been like on that Day of Pentecost in Acts 1, when all were together in one accord and the Holy Spirit fell upon all with tongues of fire.
 

Our pastors (I sat under two couples:  Stan and Pauline McNutt and Victor and Kathleen Payne) didn't use a lot of Power Point, YouTube or slick videos. In fact, they rarely, if ever, used the overhead projector that was used to project the worship choruses and hymns.  Such was the technological prowess of our fellowship. 

Pastor McNutt and Payne kept their messages simple and biblical. Usually a three point sermon, with a few anecdotal stories to bring home the point.  But, the stories never outweighed the scripture.  The bible was central and you came away with a greater appreciation for the contemporariness of the Word and why we need it so much.  Moreover, and most importantly, there was the power and presence of the Holy Spirit in their preaching.  It was very real, very powerful, from the heart and kept us all humble and receptive.

With few exceptions, the service would end in an altar call.  There was no dropping heads and silent raising of hands for prayer.  If you wanted to get saved, or be prayed for, you got up out of your pew and made your way to the altar...in front of everyone.   This kept people serious about their needs for prayer and for God.  In our church, there was no hiding your faith or needs.  And once they made their way to the front, almost everyone else got up to pray with them.  We bore one another's burdens.
 

After Sunday morning service, we sometimes gathered in the church basement for potluck. That's where the real fellowship happened. "Small groups" weren't organized so much as they just "happened", naturally, out of shared interests and needs.

 

Sunday evenings were the worship services. 30-45 minutes of worship and praise, followed by a testimony or the completion of pastor's message from that morning and ending in prayer at the front of the church that could go on for an hour or more. Coffee and desserts followed, again in the church basement. More fellowship. And there were always the stragglers, staying behind at the altar to pray for that extra blessing, for guidance, for anointing, for healing and comfort.

Our pastors were not rich, by any means.  And their days were often filled with visiting the sick and home-ridden, or sorting out the occasional rift between members.  They were involved in the community and kept the pulse of the valley.  And of course, there were the weddings and funerals. 


Our pastor's wives and children supported them, even if they didn't always live up to the "perfection" some thought they should represent.  They were transparent and humble and mostly joyful and glad to be there.  I never got the impression that either the McNutts or the Paynes were using Elim as a stepping stone to some bigger, wealthier church.  They loved us and loved Keremeos and the people in the Similkameen Valley.

 

Elim was a simple, humble country church, filled with simple, humble loving folk and pastored by equally humble and loving pastors.  I loved it...I miss it.  And I hope to one day pastor a church just like it.