One Sunday later, united in worship
First Baptist congregation regathers in a show of faith
SUTHERLAND SPRINGS, Texas – After a week of sorrow and loss, faith and resolve were reaffirmed in a big tent in a little town.
The First Baptist Church of Sutherland Springs, site of the worst mass shooting in Texas history, held a service Sunday, as it has for decades. But this time the congregation gathered in a tent large enough to accommodate nearly everyone in the community and many others from nearby.
“I thank my Lord and my God that those 26 who are no longer with us are dancing in his presence now,” Pastor Frank Pomeroy told the more than 1,000 people who sat or stood through the service in this unincorporated town 30 miles southeast of San Antonio.
Pomeroy never spoke the name of Devin Kelley, 26, who burst into the old church in the center of town during services Nov. 5 and fired a semi-automatic rifle at the estimated 50 people inside. His rampage left 25 dead, including a pregnant woman whose baby did not survive, and 20 wounded.
Kelley died later of a self-inflicted
“Do not allow the lives that were lost or changed to be in vain. I know everyone who gave their life that day. Some of them were my best friends — and my daughter.” Pastor Frank Pomeroy
gunshot wound after a firefight with two men who pursued him.
The pastor’s voice was calm and steady as he urged people not to lose their faith or surrender to sadness. But when he spoke about the violence that also claimed the life of his 14-year-old daughter, Annabelle, Pomeroy showed the strain.
“Do not allow the lives that were lost or changed to be in vain,” he said.
Then his voice cracked, and he had to pause. The congregation stood to applaud. He regained his voice: “I know everyone who gave their life that day. Some of them were my best friends — and my daughter.”
The service, conducted in the community athletic fields, conjured images of a tent revival. The altar had a light cross flanked by candles. Rows of white folding chairs were separated by a wide center aisle. Pomeroy and others spoke with a preacher’s cadence, punctuated by spontaneous shouts from the congregation: “Amen!” “Praise Jesus!” “Hallelujah!”
Later Sunday, a temporary memorial opened in the church, where 26 white chairs with the names of the victims painted on them were arranged to show where the fallen had taken their final breaths. It was the first time the public was allowed back into the church.
Christians were not the only ones there. Javaid Siddiqi, president of the Islamic Circle of North America, flew to Texas from his home in Kentucky. “It was very overwhelming. It was very sad to see the loss of life of innocent people — women and children,” he told the USA TODAY NETWORK.
Reporters were allowed to observe the service but not to approach the worshipers and mourners. Photographers and videographers, kept outside in the rain, wrapped their equipment in waterproof protection.
There was no talk of Kelley or gun politics. Every folding chair in the tent was full. Many were occupied by mothers holding children. During hymns ( Amazing Grace and Good Good Father), worshipers stood, raised their arms and swayed. Many sang along softly and mournfully.
Before the service, Pomeroy accepted hugs as worshipers filed in. He shook hands with his left hand clasped over his right, a gesture often reciprocated. Outside, armed officers stood watch.
During the service, Pomeroy likened faith to an ongoing battle against evil and fear. “Saints get wounded. Saints have scars,” said Pomeroy, who was out of town last Sunday when disaster struck his church.
“I submit to you today that just because we are wounded doesn’t mean we turn back. Just because we lose a round to Satan does not mean (we) quit. We should never give up the fight.”
Sunday’s service summoned images of a tent revival. Rows of white folding chairs were separated by a center aisle. There were spontaneous shouts from the congregation: “Amen!” “Praise Jesus!” “Hallelujah!”