John Doan: Music

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Some old buildings that once served as centers of community activity are now ignored, replaced by office buildings and shopping centers. But these structures, anchored in the architecture of another time, often speak to us simply and innocently. One such place I often rushed past was a pioneer church. The people of the once-bustling town of Zena had gathered to it, both for the devotional nature of the Sunday service and as a place to catch up on the local news. Zena no longer exists; a fire in the blacksmith shop spread to the feedstore and so on. Eventually, the few remaining structures fell back into the fields and were turned under into corn and wheat. Only the church remains. I came upon the site while out walking and was struck by its rooted presence. The wind through its eaves seemed to whistle the pilgrim hymm Old One Hundred Doxology. I imagined buckboards arriving and children running up th
e steps as bells played Nearer My God To Thee. Peering through the cloudy window panes, I thought of all the people who had passed through here on their way to eternity and that I was somewhere not far behind them. At the heart of all this was Amazing Grace. As I started toward home, I looked back at the church and could faintly hear the hymn To God Be The Glory, written by William Howard Doane, a relative of mine from a century ago. This experience made me feel that this weathered building and many like it in other communities are more than the boards and nails that hold them in place. They are things of beauty that represent to us the hope of a people that came before us.