A friend of mine, a youth pastor with a door key and a background in musical theater, recently slipped into his vacant church when it was vacant and created a hilarious video.

What would you do if you were alone in church?  

My friend played with every toy in the nursery, and then jammed on the drums and guitars and keyboard left behind by the praise band. He stood at the lectern and imitated the pastors. He napped on the sofa. He skateboarded through the sanctuary.  The video was posted on Facebook to mostly encouraging responses. The pastors laughed.

What would you do if you were alone in church?

I have a key.

I thought for a few moments about creating a video that might encourage laughter. We need to laugh. We are created in God’s image, which includes the capacity to laugh. I have no problem with laughter in church. However, I was not created with the capacity to imagine and edit video recordings.

So, alone in the church on a Sunday afternoon, I went to the chapel. I miss the chapel.

Prayer fits wonderfully into my life. It fits into my car, and into my shower, and into long walks on village sidewalks or dirt trails. It fits into the bed room, the living room, the kitchen and the porch.

Prayer fits wonderfully at church. I love praying in the Sunday school rooms and the sanctuary. I’ve prayed in the loft, on the playground, in the flower beds and on the upper levels of the clock tower.

But the sanctuary, “the little prayer room,” as one of the Sunday school kids referred to it, has a different feel.  I slip into the chapel every Sunday before the services, and often on my visits to church between Sundays.

In the chapel, I feel most unhurried. My pulse slows. My thoughts slow. The current that rushes through most of my days becomes still water for as long as I need it.  I can share and I can listen. I can kneel. I can sit. I can pace. I can linger in the quiet and see what surfaces in my heart. What do I need to share? Almost always, gratitude surfaces and urgency fades. Panic dissipates and peace rises.

Jesus, as he prayed, showed us that place is personal. We don’t need a pilgrimage for prayer. We need a time of separation, of solitude, of space. I find that space in the chapel.

I am so grateful that prayer fits into any space, no matter how cramped or crowded or hurried, but I am also grateful for the way prayer can fill a big, empty space when given opportunity.   I find that space in the chapel.

And, yes, sometimes I leave the chapel and bang on the drums, play with the toys, nap on the sofa. But I will never share that video.