Lexa United Methodist, Phillips County

The cherry tree is blooming. Spring is here.

A nice example of thin-stacked Batesville area sandstone.

That Old Church

After too long an absence, here is another photo taken and story written by my brother, Jim King. It comes from his book, Abandoned Arkansas. His notes on the photo follow the story.

Copyright 2008, from Abandoned Arkansas, by Jim King

That Old Church

Oh, yes, Lord. I know that church.
You’ve seen it? Now what would possess you to stop and look at it? It’s almost falling down. You took pictures of it? Land sakes.
I figure nobody even sees it nowadays. It’s almost been swallowed by the earth by now.
Now, mind you, we had some mighty good times inside. There was a big congregation there about fifty years ago, and if you passed on a Wednesday night, you’d know how big it was from the sound of the choir practicing. Oh, I really enjoyed those choir practices; they were far better than the actual Sunday choirs. I declare that anybody who left that building after practice was smiling and joking and full of God’s laughter.
You know that God laughs, don’t you, young man? Lord, he does it all the time. It’s how he copes with us.
My Daddy helped to build that church back in the teens, and I guess I never expected it would ever be empty.
But times change. I don’t think God does, but people sure do.
After Brother Benjamin passed, there was no one to fill the void. He had helped build that church, and anyone who came after was just tryin’ to hoe a dry row, if you get my meaning.

Oh, there were sparks, and a few of the preachers lit a bit of a fire. Especially Brother Meaning. That was back in the sixties, when we all listened better than now.
But the generations that started it all died out about the same time, and their kids - I’m one, you know - kept up the vision. But times change, and the congregation did, too. We all got a little older, and most of us got more cynical.
It’s got hard for most people to believe in anything anymore.
When I started going there, the pews were filled an hour before the sermon began, and it was standing room only in the nave. Then people began to pass on, and it was very few of their kids that came in behind.
I watched as the congregation shrank, and it just made my heart cry. Others felt the same way, but there were just too few of us to make a difference.
I don’t remember the name of the last pastor; he wasn’t there for more than a few months. But he was the one who told us the doors would be closing in three weeks. Three weeks!
I know there were only four of us, but you shouldn’t do your congregation that way. Visiting preacher or no.
We never went back after that. And look at our church now.
God is in your heart, young man. And if he isn’t, there’s not a grand cathedral or tabernacle that can put him there.

He’s here in this room with us right now.
What’s more, he’s in that old church still.
Go there. You’ll see.


from Jim's notes:
Many of my friends have chided me for this story.
“How can you write a story of a church from a Christian point of view when you’re an atheist?”
Just because I don’t believe in God doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate points of view from those that do.
I’d like to think others would do the same for me.
It’s one of my favorite stories. I had no idea what I would write as I started, hoping inspiration would come during the process. In fact, I had no intention of using the picture at all, as I had many more abandoned churches with more, uh, picturesqueness. But the story flowed, and I can’t deny there was some influence from outside.
It’s called a muse.
The church is in Phillips County.

First United Methodist, Helena

This photograph is eleven months old. I took it when I was working on the former Temple Beth El, which is a block away. I stopped at the church office to ask if they would entertain a bid to replace all that nasty opaque plastic in front of their stained glass windows. I was about a month too late, as they had just signed a contract with Soos Stained Glass to do just that.

I read on the church's Facebook page that the job was finished in November. I'm sorry I don't have an updated picture, but I imagine it now looks as though the church has once again opened its eyes.

On the one hand, it's a shame that so many congregations bought into the fevered pitches of Plexiglas salespeople in the 70s and 80s to cover up their windows with plastic. Churches only wanted to protect their windows and maybe realize some energy savings in the process. All too often what they ended up with was a covering that soon became yellow and opaque and was usually not properly ventilated either, so that condensation tended to form, drip, and rot sills.

On the other hand, it's good that so many churches these days are reversing the trend. Some are going back to no protective covering at all, but most opt to cover their windows with vented tempered glass. The windows can once more breathe and the stained glass can be seen again from the outside.

But even with the blind windows, this is a pretty church. I'm afraid, though, I know little of its history.

Temple Beth El, Helena

Like Helena in general, the Jewish population of the town has seen better days. When the members of Congregation Beth El reluctantly voted to disband three years ago due to their dwindling numbers, the synagogue they built in 1916 was donated to the city for use as a cultural arts center.

That conversion is now underway. A stage is being built and a geothermal heating and cooling system is being installed. (I have been re-glazing windows here this week for C/M Restoration, just one of the companies involved in the conversion.) When the work is complete, Helena will have a new performance venue that will be mindful of its past. You can read more about that past here.

I lay on the floor between pews to get as much of the stained glass domed skylight in the picture as possible. Still doesn't quite fit.

St. Mary's Catholic Church, Helena

St. Mary's steeple, shot from the west.

The steeple from the east.

The church was designed by Charles Eames, the famous furniture designer. Read more about the history of the church and its architecture on the church web site.

Barton Baptist, Phillips County

We thought this church was missing its steeple, but it's not.
It's just kind of a stubby steeple..

... with loudspeakers.