The Hole in the Church ...

on Layton

On Layton, near Justus Corners, is a lovely little church. Lovely might be a bit of hyperbole, although well-meaning in intent, for she has fallen into disrepair. 

Slatted shutters, some askew, all rotting, cover her windows against light and weather. Roaming critters might find easy access through a few hidey holes. Weeds encircle the structure, blossoming in the rain gutters and climbing some walls to engulf her. Large field stones beside the front steps have hiccupped out of place with the long winters. The white exterior has turned to dirty gray. The front door lock is the only shiny new part of her wardrobe, but even this slide bolt couldn't hold off looters as a limp kick might cause its collapse. 

Worst of all is the roof. The shingles jut and curl, disintegrate and rise, as if they would like to take

flight. But the ultimate slap in her face and her final humiliation are the holes in her roof, gaping and completing her progressive disintegration. A large pine tree landed on her in a storm last year. She stands hurt and forlorn, taking on rain and snow. But even in her aloneness, she sits humbly, waiting to welcome someone within her walls.

She is the Primitive Baptist Church of Justus, organized in 1835. Evidently, there are still a few members: 3, according to one of the families who once belonged. They no longer meet on Sundays, or any day for that matter. The bolt lock stays secure. Her simplicity and stature veil memories of covered dishes, picnics on the lawn, hymn sings, weddings, community friends, and a vibrant family life.

The one-room school house across the street, in use at the same time as the church beginning in the mid-nineteenth century, was demolished just this year. Perhaps the fate of the little church is sealed, for she stands still and alone, one of the last vestiges of our village life in Justus. The older generation dies, the younger moves to Houston or Memphis, and the voices of happiness and love that once filled the place are muffled and finally silenced.

I like to give the little church a good look every time I drive by or a nod or a thought about her days of singing and joy. She enjoys the recognition. Good to know she hasn't been forgotten.

Although it's only a quarter mile down the road from my home, it wasn't the church I grew up in. We weren't Primitive Baptists. Our church, a half mile in the opposite direction on Layton, was "American" Baptist ... whatever that meant and whatever the differences were between the two churches, I couldn't tell you. But some of my best friends went to the Primitive Baptist, and they were sterling family people. This little church bred them well.

Why, ever, in this miniscule community, would we have two Baptist churches and no other denominations? I wonder if perhaps doctrine or theology or practice differed just enough between them in the mid 1800s to warrant two Baptist churches.

And that reminds me of the hole in the church. Could a difference in doctrine or practice be a hole? The hole in the roof of the Primitive Baptist is glaringly offensive, driving me metaphorically to the "hole" in today's greater Church. For some people, perhaps the "hole" in today's Christian Church began with differences in doctrine and theology. Perhaps the "hole" in Church for some people is what they consider to be the hypocrisy of those who attend or maybe it's what they consider to be the irrelevance of the church's message to the world in which they live. Or perhaps the "hole" in the Church for them is their opinion of church goers as judgemental or narrow. No doubt about it - the Church has "holes."

But, when it comes to holes, let's keep the focus: God.

God, the Creator, knows with whom and what He has to deal. He made us! He had a plan for us. He loves us in our messiness and divisions and hypocrisy and judgmentalism and humanness ... I mean, really, who else would? And the plan was for His own Son Jesus to take the punishment for all those things we do and have done that cause us to fall so short of His standards. I deserve no mercy, no grace, but God took that "hole" in my soul and did a miracle of healing ... with the blood of Jesus.

God, the Lover of our souls, the One who will never leave or forsake, the Forgiver, Accepter, Completer of our lives ... our HOLE HEALER.

Don't let the holes you see in the church keep you from God.

I am ...

Grateful for the reminder of a humble church on Layton 

with a hole in its roof.

To view a YouTube video of the beautiful interior of the Primitive Baptist Church in Justus during its heyday, please go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZeCgQUfHUFQ