And We're Off!

    I grew up attending a tiny little country church in the ghost town of Lenora, Oklahoma. The pews numbered 12-ish and were seldom completely full. The congregation teetered on the edge of 35 on a good day, and the people were family- both literally and figuratively. So you can imagine my awe as we approached Boston Avenue United Methodist Church, and found ourselves gazing up into this:

  Built in the 1920's when Tulsa oil was king and Art Deco was the modern design of choice, the 14 story bell tower alone is a massive departure from the church of my childhood, whose entirety could fit in the front entryway! We sat in the parking lot for a few minutes feeling overwhelmed and watching to see where other parishoners were choosing to enter. We noticed most were walking past the gracious front steps and entering a less strenuous doorway beneath the stairs, but we decided to brave the climb and enter the gorgeous arched doorways as surely God and the architect must have intended. Above the doors carved stone statues of Charles, John, and Susanna Wesley looked at us solemnly, and I have to admit that I felt a little out of my league and was very relieved to have my stalwart husband by my side.

     Fortunately, the church was prepared for members and visitors alike with strategically placed beribboned volunteers to welcome and help us along the way. We were given directions to the restrooms and library, where a tour would begin after the service, offered coffee and snacks, handed an impressively thick bulletin, and shown into a magnificent round sanctuary.

                                                             It. Was. Incredible.


     Pinks and mauves and purples and whimsical, cheerful stained glass windows and a high vaulted ceiling that made me want to throw back my head and arms and do full spinning circles in the center of the room. I didn't. I wanted to, but I didn't. I might have, but fortunately, before I lost complete control of myself, I realized there was a BALCONY! I definitely wanted to sit in the balcony, so we climbed the steps with their lovely old fashioned iron handrails, and chose seats in the very front and center where we could take it all in.

   













     We took our places in the decades old, theatre-style seats and then giggled and adjusted, leaving a seat between us, as the chairs groaned and we realized they were created in a different time, for a people who were likely much smaller than my husband's 6'2", 280 pound frame.

      His knees settled against the balcony railing as an invisible choir began to sing from somewhere beneath us. Moments later they came into view, robed regally in a heathery kind of purple, and led by boys and girls in white, carrying a pair of crosses and the acolyte wands (sticks? candle lighting thingies?). The music was sweet and harmonies and echoed beautifully around us. They sang so lovely in fact, that my husband wanted to ask for a pillow and blanket and for them to please not stop singing for at least an hour. I wouldn't let him; although, to be honest, I did catch him snoozing a couple times even without a pillow. (In his defense, we did have a very late night prior to our visit, and they were oh, so soothing.)

     The service that followed was traditional Methodism at it's finest. Choral calls to prayer, congregational responses, hymns dating back to the 16th century, and something new to us, a Psalter, where a gray-bearded man with a majestic sounding voice would sing a pair of  verses from Psalm 29 and we would sing the next few verses in response.  All seemed to connect me with believers of the past as I'd never experienced before. I could almost picture them filling the surprising number of empty seats around us in their pin-striped suits and fancy Sunday hats. I can't claim to have had a major encounter with the Holy Spirit during the service (perhaps because I was so busy taking in all the sights and sounds), but I definitely felt blessed to be part of such a long line of believers and to worship God in the same method as so many before us.

     After an enjoyable and thought-provoking sermon by Senior Minister Reverend David Wiggs and one final choral response, we made our way to the library for the promised tour. Our tour guide was lovely and very knowledgeable, and I'm kicking myself right now for not getting her name. She walked us throughout the building, pointing out fascinating tidbits such as the repetition of angled arches throughout the church which symbolize God's blessing on all who pass through and the incredible 3,000 pound art deco style mosaics which were added in 1993 when the congregation celebrated their 100th anniversary. Every window, every statue, every color, shape, and light had spiritual and/or historical significance, which is exactly as architectural designer and art teacher, Dr. Adah Robinson had planned. (Personally, I think it's very cool that the structure was designed by a woman in the 1920's. More research on her is definitely in my future! And if you're interested in finding out more about Boston Ave UMC take a look at http://www.bostonavenue.org/ for more information.)

    All in all, our awe did not diminish in the least from our first glimpse to our final farewells. The building alone made me want to praise God for the glory of His house of worship and the creativity of His creation, and the sweet congregational members, lovely, distinguished worship service and friendly, well-spoken pastor were just icing on the cake. We would happily return and bring our daughters along, but our next visit will have to wait, as we continue Chasing Steeples in the Sundays to come.