About a year ago our Shrewsbury congregation was swelling beyond its space and shortly after a search we found ourselves birthed into a second church just in time for Pascha last year. It was reformed church space no less, named St Julian’s, and one now on a sudden mission of enchantment at any cost. Like any good birth it was emotionally apparent and physically disorientating, but then here we all were again for our second Pascha at St Julian’s, just off the thoroughfare and down that side street which I cannot remember the name of.
One year in and beneath the church steps with candlelights amongst us and with Fr Stephen proclaiming the gospel, I took a moment looking around us all and knew that I wouldn’t have chosen to go through any of this new church business. I’d have rather stood outside in the rain at our regular home, but nonetheless I have been glad to have been going through it, ongoing as it is. It would appear to be the birth of something.
Our previous church, 318 Holy Fathers, was my first Orthodox church and the very physical womb of my conversion, and my family. Ostensibly a walled barn, but with the soft warm glow of close candlelight shining off icons and those present. And also the hinges to the door at Holy Fathers are rock solid heavy and life always taught me that that sort of a door is the one you should take a look behind. Well I did and it was wonderful. The best door ever.
Now to be clear, we do still have that door, and all the rest of the church attached to it, but there is no denying that we have now been born unto St Julian’s; and further, that after a year there is still some of the mess that a year old thing makes, the squealing and cleaning up, but we are here still, and we have been for a year.
So here we go, wobbling but walking, gurgling but growing in voice.
God bless!
JW Bowe