A dull winter’s day, but I drag myself from the comfy, soporific atmosphere of being glued to a screen.

The chill bites through a thin winter’s jacket, so I walk at a quicker pace up the hill. Still, a rather aimless march – just a break for blurry eyes and cramped legs.

I contemplate the local church on the hill. The sombre graveyard, the memories of a young child – sitting in a service I didn’t understand, counting off hymns, thinking of football. I’m not so comfortable with the glare of gravestones, but the church still pulls me in. What do you find in a church these days?

Tentatively, I push on the door; it is unlocked, rare faith in a modern world of distrust and security concern. Squeezing into the nearest pew, I feel energised by the silence and peace. I dare not turn on the electric lights, but a solitary candle illuminates the darkening church, only the setting winter sun squinting through stained glass windows adding to the flickering light.

I’m not used to the dark, but the flickering candle burns brighter in the void. An object of focus, an unplanned meditation on the light. I remember a wise saying “The galaxy of stars and the darkest night are inseparably one.”

A few thoughts strive for attention. Am I really alone? It is very nice, but please don’t lock me in all night. Any thoughts of past boredom soon flicker away. Since 30 years past, I have learned devotion to the Christ – the Son of God, the Light of the World. This is His House waiting to be called.

I silently invoke my Guru and the Christ. To me, two brothers of the Spirit. I know they will listen to our prayers.

The silence of the stones is solid, immovable and vast. Distant visions of a monastery and endless hours of prayer. Yet, the silence pushes me to sing. I stumble through half-remembered songs my Guru composed about the Christ. Alone and isolate, I’m half worried of being caught in the act – praying, meditating and singing the tongue of Bengal.

But, from a quiet whisper, I gain a confidence and joy. The acoustics of the church magnifying my own voice. I was never good enough to be in a choir, but now I  imagine I’m singing to invisible angels.

I can hardly believe my luck. A sacred space, free and open. Today, all to myself.

So many years have passed, but now I appreciate my village church like never before.

Thank you God and the person who lit the candle in the dark.

I slip out as quietly as I came in. That was good for the soul.

~

Tejvan 9 December, 2015

Audio recording

• A visit to a local church (click to listen)

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Footnotes

• St John’s Parish Church Menston – website

• Songs about Christ – at Radio Sri Chinmoy

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There is only one sentence
In God’s entire Autobiography:
“The galaxy of stars
And the darkest night
Are inseparably one.”

– Sri Chinmoy [1]