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The Preacher’s Corner
By Rev. Dr. Milton Winter
Just glad when thermostat works
Last
Sunday I thought we would have to turn on the heat for church, but as
it turned out, it was a pleasant day and no heat or air-conditioning of
any kind was needed. I hope we have several more Sundays like that for
the fall.
Turning on the heat in a large, older
structure like ours is something of an operation. The gas line has to
be inspected and the filters checked. If that is all that is needed and
everything works properly, I feel blessed, for in the church of my
childhood, this was not the case one year, and therein lies my tale.
Our
Sunday school in Cleveland, Miss., was heated by an old-fashioned steam
boiler. It was a good way to heat a large facility, as long as it
functioned properly.
One Monday evening in the
early fall, the ladies of the church were having their circle meeting
at the church, when suddenly they heard a loud clanking coming from the
furnace room upstairs over the parlor where they were meeting. Mrs.
Bolling, our minister’s wife, phoned her husband at the manse to report
the difficulty. “Get out!” he told her with an unusual sternness in his
voice.
The ladies scurried outside and could hear
that old boiler literally jumping up and down with pressure before it
exploded with tremendous force, knocking out plastered walls on the
upper floor of the building.
We lived just a
block away and the sound of the explosion, followed by the sirens of
the fire trucks, aroused my father and me from our television program.
At just that moment my grandmother arrived home to report what she had
just witnessed.
It was an eerie sight to see all
the tables and chairs in my little Sunday school room piled in a heap
from the explosion. I was certainly glad the church was not full of
children and that the ladies were able to make a hasty, if undignified
exit, so that none of them were injured.
A
safety valve on the boiler had become stuck and the pressure had built
up to unsustainable levels. A new reinforced furnace room was built
onto the back of the church, safely away from the meeting areas. But it
was a long time before I would sleep anyplace that had a steam boiler.
And
the irony was not lost on me that in the church I served years later in
Chicago, the boiler for that building was located in a basement room
directly under the pulpit! There were more than a few tired jokes about
“turning up the heat” on the sermon. What we really dreaded was when
that old boiler set the radiators banging when hot water was pumped
through the pipes while the choir was singing quiet music.
Little
children can be very disturbed when something happens to their church.
They learn over time to distinguish between God and God’s house as
distinct entities.
When the explosion happened in
Cleveland I am not sure I quite had that distinction figured out in my
mind. Children need to learn of God as a stabilizing force they can
count on—“In returning and rest we shall be saved, in quietness and
confidence shall be our strength. . .” as Isaiah says.
So
I am just glad when the thermostat works and we are just warm or cool
as the need may be. What if gentle old Dr. Bolling had been preaching
when the church blew up? He would never have heard the end of it from
the men down at the coffee shop!
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