The Church of the Station
And the Word became flesh and dwelled among us, and we have seen his glory…
In medieval Europe, church bells rang three times a day, calling people to stop what they were doing and recite the Angelus—a prayer reminding them that “The Word became flesh and dwelled among us.” Three times a day they remembered Christ, who came to us long ago and is with us still, present in every human being, great and small.
There’s another bell that rings regularly during the day—in Wellesley Square. I hear it distinctly from my office early in the morning and many more times before I leave for home. It’s a train bell, and it reminds me that our church is situated a stone’s throw from a commuter rail station. Every time it rings, I remember that Christ is with us still, going to work in the morning, coming home at night, taking shortcuts via our walkway and steps, racing to catch the train when late, sauntering when there’s time to spare. The train bell prompts me to pray for “my” commuters, asking calm for the anxious, healing for the grieving, wisdom for those who’ll be making big decisions, encouragement for those whose work feels unrewarding, the blessing of Christ’s peace for all.
By accident of geography, Village Church directly overlooks the hub of daily routine for many people in our community. But could it be more than an accident of geography that we’re the church of the station? Might God be asking something of us each time the train bell rings? What might it be?
Prayer: Christ of great compassion, you dwell among us every day. Help us notice you, welcome you as you pass by, and bless you on your way.