From Stable to Warehouse

The memorial service for my father brought to mind a powerful juxtaposition: the stark simplicity of my earliest childhood memories of church in Zapotitlán, Mexico, and the contemporary, repurposed warehouse space where we celebrated his life.

Becky, far right in arms of mother.  Eddie in arms of nanny.

In Zapotitlán, our church was a humble stable, a space so unassuming it perfectly embodied the meeting of past and present. The simple wooden benches offered little comfort, yet the services, often lengthy, were filled with a fervent devotion. A single table, adorned with a lovingly embroidered tablecloth bearing a Bible verse, served as the podium . The lack of ornamentation only amplified the faith of the congregation; every element felt handcrafted, a testament to their dedication. Their participation wasn't merely attendance; it was active involvement, each person contributing to their shared space of worship.

Fast forward to 2017, and the stark contrast of the service in Santa Clarita. Held in a converted warehouse within an industrial park, this setting possessed a different kind of simplicity, a raw authenticity born from repurposing. The rustic wood and meaningful scripture art on the walls resonated with the spirit of the occasion, reminding me of the transformative work God undertakes in our hearts. These artistic touches felt deeply intentional, a visual echo of the scripture's enduring presence in our lives. The space felt welcoming, cozy, even intimate – a sharp contrast to the cold, earthen floor of that long-ago stable. Yet, the unifying factor was undeniable: God's presence, equally palpable in both settings. The differences in comfort and aesthetic were secondary to the shared spiritual essence.

This experience deeply touched me. The unpretentious nature of both locations underscored the universality of faith, its ability to thrive and resonate regardless of setting or circumstance. It brought back a wave of memories of my father, and reinforced my belief that his spirit—like God’s grace—inhabit(s) every corner of our lives. The warmth of the warehouse service, like the simple devotion of the stable church, is something I will cherish.