You Can’t Mourn What You Never Fed

This past Sunday was a hard day. Our little Welsh community said goodbye to another chapel, a ministry over 300 years old that once echoed with hymns and, believe it or not, once shaped a missionary whose name still draws pilgrims from the other side of the world.

Robert Jermain Thomas spent his early years in this very chapel, where his father served as pastor. In his twenties, Thomas carried the gospel to Korea and gave his life for it in 1866. That's the legacy these old stone walls hold. And this past week, the chapel went dark for good.

The gentleman who had to make the call didn't do it lightly. He wrestled with the decision for months. He watched his little congregation (who hadn't had a pastor in over 30 years) shrink year after year. He lost faithful members, buried the church treasurer, and finally ran out of hands to keep the doors open and the bills paid. When he made the announcement, he expected sorrow. What he got instead was his phone ringing off the hook. Sadly, it was not from folks offering to help, but from people who hadn't darkened the chapel doorway in years, furious that "their" family chapel was closing.