By Medicine Hat News on February 10, 2018.
Light filtering in through stained glass windows — and a window or two that had been broken and replaced with clear glass — illuminated the sanctuary with warmth. There was a restful quiet in there, like the feeling that comes with stepping outside alone at night during the type of snowfall where the flakes drift down, big and fluffy, hushing the world as one by one they gently settle into each other. Their white cushion holds the earth, and while city dwellers tend to grumble about the shovelling and the roads, country people know that this is moisture, and it is good. This was the type of peace — practical, nourishing, beautiful and much warmer than snow — that I found the first time I stepped into the little country church. At the entryway, my face lit up as I took in a cozy seating area complete with black leather loveseat and simple, contemporary décor. An aisle ran down the centre of the sanctuary, flanked on either side with wooden pews, leading to a few steps stretched between a pulpit on the right and a small partitioned area with a piano on the left. A table held two white candles — the taller would be lit to remind us of Christ’s steadfast and loving presence, the shorter for peace. The wooden beams of the roof soared up to meet together in a peak, creating the shape of an inverted ship: Nautical symbolism for the spiritual journey of the people of this little country church. There were women busy readying the space for worship, men caring for the building, children ringing the church bell, and open smiles bearing the message of hospitality and hope that so often comes with receiving someone new. The more I got to know them, the more I came to realize these are people who care deeply about their spiritual home. They see it both as a building to worship in and a hub through which they interact with their community, doing their best to share God’s love: Through baptisms and Sunday school, weddings and funerals, hosting community suppers and the Lion’s club, holding board meetings over supper at the local bar, decorating a parade float and running a booth at Twenty Mile Post Days, through pickles sold, tarts made, a modern kitchen and experiments with using technology in worship. Whether there are five people on a Sunday or 15, the reach of this little country church goes far beyond its doors. “In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be, unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.” This line from the hymn “In the Bulb there is a Flower” by Natalie Sleeth is one that speaks to me of this little country church. Peace United Church has seen many changes through the past 100 years, and even now the faithful people there are in a period of discerning what their future may hold — how God is calling them to “be church” in Irvine, the surrounding community of farmers and ranchers, and the shifting culture of rural life. It is a process that takes courage and grace, hard work and faith. Life takes root, deep beneath a blanket of snow, light filtering through. What will the next 100 years hold? God alone can see. This Sunday at 12:15 p.m. Peace United Church in Irvine is celebrating its centennial with a worship service and lunch to follow. All are welcome. The Rev. Chelsea Masterman is a member of the ministry team at Westminster, Gordon Memorial, and Peace United Churches. 7