What also seemed out of place were the exhibits that seemed to overtake the inside of the sanctuary. On the left as you walk in the doors there is a wall with patches from fire departments and police departments around the country honoring their fellow bretheren that died doing there duty. There are notes and pictures from loved ones and teddy bears that were collected from around the country for the school children of New York City on the right side. American flags hung from the balcony and interactive displays where one could search through names and pictures of the events following September 11th.

I went and sat down on one of the aisle seats and thought to myself, “What has happened to this sacred space? Maybe it has conformed to the world that it sits amongst.” I just sat there and watched everyone walk around the outside of the sanctuary reading and digesting what the church had done in the aftermath of this tragedy.

“What the church had done.” As that thought escaped my mind I got up and began to walk around the outside of the sanctuary again. I read the stories of the people who served meal after meal to the workers. I read how the pew that George Washington once sat in became the center for counseling for workers and volunteers. I saw where cots lined the walls to provide a place for rest. I read stories of chiropractors that gave massages and adjustments to the workers after a long days work. I stared at peace cranes that had been made and given by survivors of the World War II bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. I saw what the church had done for all those people who came to her for help when they felt their lowest.

These exhibits are not out of place but were in the only place that make sense. They are living examples of what the church teaches: service to all who are weary, a place of hope when outside no hope could be seen, and a place where reconciliation can begin.

There is no better witness for the church than exhibits of service, hope, and reconciliation.

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