This Sunday, I had the privilege of
meeting a church's oldest member -- a man who's been part of one church all his
life, who remembered the first Sunday worship services were held in that
church. His whole life, he's seen God at work through people faithfully working
in one church.
It was fascinating to listen to Ed Stamper describe walking from the building where the church had
met temporarily to the brand new church building, built almost
entirely by local people using local materials, for the first worship service
in the new sanctuary. The land had been donated by a neighbor; the wood had
been cut in the surrounding hills and hauled to the church by horses and mules,
the stone had been taken from the creek that runs through the valley, and the
entire structure had been built using hand tools (the community didn't have
electricity until more than 20 years later). These days, Mr. Stamper comes in first
thing on Sunday morning to make sure the heat's turned on, and he's the last to
leave, making sure the lights are off and the building is securely closed.
When we arrived in Morris Fork, I
wondered if I'd recognize the place. Twice before, I'd been in Morris Fork on
youth group work camps, but my most recent visit had been more than thirty
years earlier. We'd been told we were welcome to stay in the Manse, and that we
could help paint the downstairs; I didn't remember a manse, let alone its
downstairs. Still, I'd convinced Dean that we should visit this church, and I
was happy it was still around to be visited.
Edie, who's on the chapel board and
lives part time in the Manse (and who's a point person on the project of
preparing the Manse to be available as a retreat center), welcomed us and
showed us the house. She took us to the chapel, which is also in the process of
renovation. And she loaned me a book that tells the story of the church through
the memories of Aunt Nola Vander Meer, whose husband Sam was the founding
pastor of the church.
I'd heard about the couple who'd
founded the church, and I vaguely remembered hearing that electricity, paved
roads, and telephones hadn't been around until the 1950s and 1960s, but I'd had
no idea the great impact they'd had on that part of Kentucky. I hadn't known
that Southport Presbyterian had been supporting Morris Fork in one way and
another for over fifty years. I didn't know that church youth groups had been
coming to the community for longer than that.
We arrived early enough on Wednesday
to be part of two traditions of the church: Wednesday night worship and the daily
ringing of the church bell at 5:00 pm. The bell calls the community to stop
whatever they're doing and pray for a few minutes. The tradition began when the
church first got a bell in their steeple. From what I've heard, even drivers
would stop to pray when the evening bell rang. Every day while we were there,
we were reminded by that bell to stop and pray.
On the other days, Dean painted from
midmorning until suppertime. I primed during the afternoons, and on Saturday,
two teens from the church painted as well. Edie, our hostess, scraped the stone
walls, primed them and painted them, all the while answering our questions and
making sure her daughter was content and occupied. To my surprise (since I
worked on it fewer hours than anyone else), the painting was finished late
Saturday afternoon.
Meanwhile, workers at the Chapel
were fixing the floor at the front of the sanctuary and rebuilding the front of
the platform where termites had weakened the old wood. A wedding is scheduled
there later in the spring, so there's a sense of urgency to the job. Outdoors,
passing thunderstorms and the season covered the hills with beauty.
We woke to fog on Sunday morning,
but shortly before Sunday School, it lifted above the hills, melting away to a
warm, blue sky day. We went to the room where the Sunday School class meets
(and, while the sanctuary is being repaired, Wednesday night and Sunday morning
worship also gather there). After a lesson about the Prodigal Son from Luke 15,
more people arrived for the worship service, including the teens who'd helped
with the painting and a few other children and young people. Their greetings
clearly showed that they know each other well, so I asked the woman next to me
(who I knew came from a long-time Morris Fork family) how many people in the
room were born and raised there. She glanced around, then said, "All of
them, I guess."
Though the church isn't as remote as
it once was, the grocery store is more than half an hour away along roads that
twist among the creeks and hollers. Before the church was built here, the community
had no real gathering place. Even though travel is easier now, the church still
functions as a community center for those who live in the area. Over the years,
it's functioned as a clinic for souls and bodies (medical and dental clinics
were organized here when visiting doctors had to travel on horseback through
creekbeds), as a training center to preserve traditional crafts, as a resource
for agricultural innovation, and even as the kitchen where some of the first
school lunches in the country were prepared.
The first time I was in Morris Fork,
in 1975, we painted fences and pulled up an enormous tree stump. We played ball
with local kids. I tried to learn to play the guitar and failed miserably
(although I did learn to pick out the melody to "Ode to Joy"). The
church itself has been through some rocky times (it was closed for a number of
years, but reorganized around 2008). The inside of the church -- the building
that was such a joy to the community when it was built in 1927 -- was a
complete blank in my memory.
Now, having shared in a little of
the life of the community (and finding out more about the congregation and the
part my family church has played in its history), I understand a little better
how Mr. Stamper and the whole congregation felt that day as they marched into
their new building. The area is a community because of the Church. I'm so glad
to have gotten to be a tiny part of it over the past 40 years. I'm eager to see how God will use it as a place of retreat and rest for the larger community in the future.
Statistics
Service Length: 1 hour 11
minutes
Sermon Length: 30 minutes
Visitor Treatment: We were
introduced at the beginning of Sunday School and at the beginning of church,
but even before that, people made a point to introduce themselves and to greet
us.
Followup by Tuesday Morning:
our hostess, a member of the church board, gave us a goodbye hug before we left, and we received a message from Pastor Mike a few days later.
Our Rough Exact Count:
25 (it took us three tries, so it should be exact)
Probable Ushers' Count: 25
Snacks: none
Musicians: electric piano
(man)
Songs: "Because He
Lives" (also used as prelude before steeple bell was rung)
"Come Thou Fount"
"I'd Rather Have Jesus"
(also sung on Wednesday night, both times by request)
"Jesus Loves me" (all four
verses...do you know them all?)
Distance to church: 100
yards, but we walked half a mile down the road and back before Sunday school
Miles from start: 12,082 (time for another oil change!)
Total 2016 Miles: 11,825
Church website: none,
although they're on Facebook
Thank you for your article. I grew up in the Southport Presbyterian Church in Indiana, and was well aware that we supported the Morris Fork Church. I was able to go there on a Youth Group work project for a week in 1965, and we also did a lot of painting. I didn’t appreciate it as much then as I would now, and am happy the church still exists and that it continues to serve the community. God is good.
ReplyDeleteSuch great memories from back in 1963 and 64 when we would bring stuff down from West Washington Street Presbyterian Church in Indianapolis in our VW Buss for Christmas in July. Especially remember all the great food :-)
ReplyDeleteI was in Morris Fork as part of a church workwith camp from Wilkinsburg/Pittsbrugh,PA in 1966. Our main job was pouring a concrete patio behind the manse. We dug out the area and mixed the concrete by hand, using water we lugged in buckets from a pump. Sam Vander Meer was the pastor. The boys in our group slept on the floor in the schoolhouse and the girls on cots in a in-house.
ReplyDeleteI went to Morris Fork in 2006 with Southport Presbyterian. What a small world we live in.
ReplyDeleteMy aunt, Kathryn Conklin, Visited Mars Fork many times in the early days of the band mirrors ministry there. I remember her telling about her ride on a mule to get to Morris Fork. Her church, Forest Hills Presbyterian in Newark New Jersey Many changes since then, I am surewas a sponsor of Sam’s and Nola’s ministry. I went with Casey to Morris Fork in 1958 or 9 . We drove to the community center and it was the first time she had come in via road and not Mule ..:Many changes since then I am sure!
ReplyDelete