London - Lighthouse Baptist Church

Lighthouse Baptist Church

Deena and I spent some time Saturday night on the internet looking for a place to worship on Sunday, and we found several churches within five kilometers of our headquarters in Stepney Green.  We read through several well-constructed websites before choosing the 10:30 service at the Lighthouse Baptist Church located deeper into the East End of London.  Problem was, there was no underground station nearby, and we didn’t relish the thought of walking a 5K  in the forecasted English drizzle; so we knew it was finally time to face the mystery and intrigue of the London bus map.  To this point, we’ve used the tube as our main method of transportation—it’s easy to figure out how to get somewhere on the train, and the fare is reasonable.  The bus is tempting, however, because the fare is half that of the tube, and I’m sure the street views of London from the bus are more engaging than the dark walls of the underground.  Other than our tax return, with cups of coffee and tea and a couple of hours, Deena and I can figure out just about anything…except the London bus map.  The logistical plan for a nuclear power plant would be easier to decipher than this document that weaves numbers and symbols through the twisting and turning streets of London.  In order to get to church on time, we could tell that the bus was a must for guys like us, so we had our motivation to tackle the map.  Surprisingly, a simple Google search was our Rosetta Stone, and before long, the ancient secrets of the London bus map unraveled before our eyes.  A whole new world of transportation was at our fingertips.  

Sunday morning breakfast was toast with butter and jam, raspberry yogurt, and cheese, and we had plenty of time to get ready for worship.  Our housemates were late-sleepers, so they were all coming down for breakfast as we were walking out the door.  The hour of reckoning had come as we made the short walk to the bus stop and stood waiting to see if a bus would show up and validate our map research.  We started getting worried as we saw two buses come by in the opposite direction, since several pedestrians gave us curious glances as they walked past, we began to think that maybe the route we chose wasn’t in operation on Sunday, and our deciphering had been in vain.  Suddenly, over the hill in a cloud of glory, a bright red bus appeared.  It was coming in our direction with the number 309 flashing on top in brilliant gold—we felt as if we had found the Holy Grail.  Fifteen minutes later we hopped off the bus and walked the last few blocks to the church.  

We were early, and through the front doors, we could see that the sanctuary was small and empty except for two ladies standing in a corner.  They introduced themselves and were curious to know all about the family of Americans who had just popped up at the door.  They told us that Monday was a bank holiday and that church attendance would be light since many members of the congregation were traveling during the long weekend.  Pastor Erik Pattison walked in a few minutes later, and he was delighted that we were visiting and could “fill up a row” that morning.  He was gregarious and nattily dressed and reminded me of a slightly heavier Greg Popovich, coach of the San Antonio Spurs.  He told us that Lighthouse Baptist Church began as a home gathering in 1850 and moved into its first building ten years later.  The current building was added on in the mid 1970s.  The sanctuary was bright with light from long windows, and the parquet floor was well-worn with heel marks from many worship services over the years.  There were all types of instruments placed around the altar, but the pastor said there wouldn’t be much musical accompaniment due to the low attendance expected.

We took our seats in the second row of bright blue chairs as several other people came through the doors.  While we sat there making small talk before the service began, Pastor Erik approached me with a quizzical look on his face.  He asked me, “I hope you don’t think I’m cheeky, but would you pray with me before the service starts?”  Oh my goodness, I couldn’t get out of my chair fast enough as I readily agreed, and we walked back to one of the Sunday school rooms behind the sanctuary.  He told me that his usual prayer partner was in Malaysia doing mission work, and he was grateful to me for joining him.  I’ll never forget sitting knee-to-knee with Pastor Erik and praying for him and his flock as we all prepared to meet the Lord in worship.

For the next hour and a half, we sang hymns, prayed, and listened to Pastor Erik as he preached about the Church in Europe and how Christians should place their hope in God, and not in politics and government.  The singing was a cappella with the exception of a few percussion instruments, and Pastor Erik played the conga drums on one song.  The voices were robust from the congregation of about twenty-five people, and even though I’m used to hearing a full praise band back home, I was thankful this day for something I’ve missed for a long time.  As we sang those wonderful old hymns, I could hear my bride’s sweet alto voice blending in perfect harmony with all the people singing praises to God.  The service closed with the entire congregation reading the same benediction that we’ve heard at the end of every service we’ve attended on this trip and the one our beloved Pastor Alex gives back home:  

The Lord bless you and keep you;

The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;

The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

We stayed for a while after the service and everyone introduced themselves to us over tea and biscuits.  They offered many suggestions on places to visit during the remainder of our stay in London.   When he found out that we had visited Stonehenge, Pastor Erik asked if we found it “a bit of a let down.”  We told him how much we enjoyed it and that it had been a highlight of our trip to England so far.  He said that he must be jaded since he grew up twenty miles from the site and used to have picnics with his mates on the stones.  They also used the stones as gaming stumps and played cricket matches there on sunny afternoons.  I could hear the collective rumble from hundreds of neolithic men rolling over in their barrows as he described these atrocities with a twinkle in his eye.  We bid everyone goodbye and thanked them for their hospitality before walking to our bus stop after this fine morning of worship at the Lighthouse Baptist Church.

Deena and I enjoy a Sunday afternoon nap when we can get one, and we took a long one today while the kids rested as well.  We took an early evening walk around the neighborhood and shared a lasagne supper before our housemates returned from their adventures.  The day was restful and refreshing, and we’re ready for our last week in London.