My first introductions to archaeology came from the probably not-so-accurate movie “Indiana Jones.”
Like many I was led to believe that the world of archaeology was fun and exciting when you weren’t being chased by Nazis or gangsters, and I thought all archeologists carried a weapon like his whip. I set out for a grand adventure in my backyard, dug lots of holes but found only the ire of my parents.
Like most children, I quickly gave up on that pursuit and moved on to something else. As I became a pastor of older established churches, I often found myself in the role of archeologist. But instead of digging up buried treasure and ancient artifacts, I was uncovering old stories, tall tales and sometimes even the truth about the church’s past before I came.
Just as an archaeologist will dig down in the layers of the dirt and find remains of those who came before, a pastor often finds the remains of what a church once was or used to be. It might be an attendance board buried in a closet, an old banner for a Sunday school campaign or some old bulletins that detail all the activities of the church.
Many might consider those things as just artifacts of the past or junk that needs to be thrown away. But when a pastor learns to study those things, he can see the full picture of his church’s history. Just like the artifacts that archaeologists uncover can tell them about the life and culture of those who lived there before, so the artifacts of a church can tell a pastor about a church’s values, leaders, celebrations and their losses as well.
The artifacts of a church are more than just relics of the past that should be thrown in the historical closet; those items tell the history of the church.
In my own church there’s a sign that describes a Sunday school class for those born from 1916-1920, the old pulpit hand-built by a founding member, a plaque marking their being a top giving church, a picture from the note-burning ceremony, a drawer full of Sunday school attendance awards and so much more.
That pulpit reminds me of the man I never knew who built it, a man who left his church to help start a new one in a growing part of town. He served as deacon, Sunday school director, music leader and more over the years. You can’t tell the story of this church without telling of men like him. He is gone, but the things he built remain, literally and figuratively.
The Sunday school sign reminds me of all the faithful members in the church before me, born over a century ago, who endured world wars, recessions, church splits and other tragedies and triumphs.
The attendance pins remind me of the faithfulness of this church in discipleship, the note burning reminds me of the generosity of members and how glad I am to have a paid-off building. The old membership roll kept in a rolodex, the choir robes, the old bulletins: All of them are a reminder of how God worked through this church membership in the past.
When a pastor takes time to dig through the old dirt and dust of the history of the church, he will find that much of it can serve as a guide and vision for the present.
We don’t have revivals the same way they did in the past, but that old flyer reminds me of the faithful heartbeat of evangelism that drove this church.
We don’t have choirs anymore, but the robes remind me of the members who volunteered to lead in worship just like many do in our band today.
The old box of cassette tapes reminds me of the urge to get the message out to those in need, though we do it digitally today.
Properly used, the past of a church should serve as a propellant into the future, not an anchor to a time gone by.
The older a church, the more a pastor gets to play the archaeologist. A stroll through the dusty closets of a church can reveal the myriad ways that God worked in the past and stir up an appreciation for all those who came before.
I never did get good with a whip, and I look funny in a fedora, but around almost every corner of my old church I can dig up a reminder of God’s faithfulness in the past. More than that, these old artifacts push me to be faithful in the moment I’m in.
Sometime in the future some new pastor might dig up my old sermons, graphics or plans and laugh at how outdated they are. But hopefully they will remind him of the need to stay faithful with the message, no matter what the methods are.
(EDITOR’S NOTE — Luke Holmes is pastor of Immanuel Baptist Church in Duncan, Okla. He writes at substack.com/@lukeholmes.)
