A Church Comes Down
I found out today that the church I grew up in had been torn down. Calvary Baptist Church in Yankton, South Dakota. My cousin Tom, who still lives in South Dakota, sent a link to a story in the Yankton Daily Press & Dakotan—or the P&D, as we called it, the newspaper I used to toss on doorsteps as a boy.
Calvary Baptist was a white clapboard church built in 1903. It was about eight blocks from our house. We could walk to church, and we often did. Once, all nine of us walked (Mom, Dad, and the seven of us kids) because a blizzard had buried our station wagon parked on the street.
We sat every Sunday in the second pew. Nine of us could fit.
I was born in that church and we were there three times a week: Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday Prayer Meeting. I must have heard a thousand sermons between my infancy and the day we moved away when I was a sophomore in high school.
I learned to sing at Calvary Baptist. We sang Gospel songs with choruses I soon knew by heart. Even if you didn’t know the words to the verses, you could belt out the chorus.
I love to tell the story,
‘Twill be my theme in glory.
To tell the old, old story
Of Jesus and His love.
One of my Sunday School classes met in the furnace room. In the heat of August I sat through long summer revivals. I remember the Christmas cantatas, the baptism services up in the baptistry where Pastor Omanson appeared in waders, wearing a bow tie which would not get wet when he leaned over and plunged someone into those cold waters.
I remember Vacation Bible School. We came in singing,
Boys and girls for Jesus
This our earnest prayer.
Boys and girls for Jesus,
Home and school and play and everywhere.
We’ll tell the world of life in Jesus,
He is all our song.
There is all you need in Jesus
Won’t you come along.
We got a box lunch that included chocolate milk, a luxury I would never receive at home.
When I was six I accepted Christ as my personal savior. A special evangelist was preaching and I answered his altar call. Since I was so young, the preacher’s wife sat with me in the first pew on the left and “led me to the Lord,” as we used to say. It was good to know that I was going to heaven, along with the rest of my family, whom I loved. We did everything together, as a family, and I certainly didn’t want to miss glory with all of them.
I went to youth group and had my first crushes on some of the Calvary girls.
Whenever someone had a baby there would be a red rose on the communion table down in front of the pulpit. One Sunday we walked in, saw the red rose and were stunned. This was a small town and a smaller church. We knew everybody who was even thinking about having a baby. So: who had a baby?
Turns our Mrs. Rempfer, a rather corpulent woman, had managed to diet throughout her pregnancy so that as the child grew her body diminished. She had a baby in secret. We were all gobsmacked, but there was the red rose on the communion table. It was the talk of the town.
It hurt to see my boyhood church demolished. I had been back often; each time felt like a pilgrimage. The article in the Press & Dakotan said that before the wreckers lit into the church, people were allowed to take out souvenirs. The stained glass had been rescued by someone.
I wish I had been there to take out that second pew.
Beautifully said, David. So many memories!
I was sad to hear your boyhood church had been bulldozed but seeing the pictures made it real. Feels a little sacrilegious to bulldoze down a church, but maybe better that than converting it to a restaurant.
Beautifully written. I’m with you on the second pew, David. Seems someone should have offered it to us!
I watched “Flight” last night with Denzel Washington. As Denzel was landing a plane in distress there was a church between the plane and the emergency landing field. As he was coasting the plane in for the landing he clipped the steeple. It really disturbed me for some reason. The pictures above really disturb me too, not 100% sure why. For lack of a better way to say it, I am sorry for your loss.
Yes, Pam saw the picture and said, “It doesn’t seem right to just bulldoze a CHURCH.”
Just thinking about the nine of you and all that you shared in that church makes me smile. They can take down the church but no one will ever take those memories or the impact they had on you away…those are yours forever. Thanks for sharing, David.
Thanks for the smile!
Dear David, oh yes, we could sing those choruses and still can: “spread the tidings all around, Jesus Saves! Jesus Saves!” About 20 yeas ago a half-dozen Episcopalians, all former Baptists or Methodists started singing around a piano after dinner, without a hymnal in sight, but with a good church pianist. We managed to remember and sing about 50 choruses, songs and hymns from our youth. (We too did our first dating at church.) Long to do that again; the singing that is.”Over the seas, over the seas, Jesus my savior pilot me”. Best, leslie
Ha! Next time you’re in town (may it be soon), let’s sing, Leslie, let’s sing.
I grew up at the First Congregational Church in Shrewsbury, MA Many happy memories also although I do remember that sometimes my father snored!! It is still standing and I’m so sorry your growing up church is not. And yes, let’s sing!!
I’m not even sure it was legal to tear Calvary down w/out consulting w/ the Andersons & Paulsons 1st!?!
I also grew up attending a Baptist church and was baptized when I was 7 yrs. old. My husband (a former Baptist, too) and I have happily been Presbys now for over 10 years, but I will always be grateful for that time in my life. The hymns and singing stay with me and I’m reminded of it just when I need it. My childhood church is still there but has changed through several building campaigns. It’s the people, experiences, and teachings that will stay with me no matter what happens to the building. Thanks for reminding me of that with your blog post.
Gobsmacked??
I think that is why my absence at my dear step sister’s funeral,yesterday was so hard for me was because it was the same church I was raised in,married in,and parents buried in. The blizzard kept us grounded.Thanks for the alter flowers. Blessings, Mugsie
David, one of your very best and that is saying a lot Being grounded, as you were in the Chrisian faith really shows in you As for me, being born baptised and raised and stil Episcopalin, with minor laspses, has been such a huge part of this life of 86 yrs and not counting
My childhood Church is still standing in Philadelphia, but the Hospital in Philadelphia where I spent a number of years learning to be a Nurse, and then working as a Nurse (a 2000 bed City Hospital of Philadelphia) was torn down in 1977. It brought such sorrow to all of us who had spent those years learning to be the best that we could be was absolutely devastating.
I know how you feel, and sure wish you could have gotten that second PEW as well.
Ginny
“A Church Comes Down | Finding Your Soul” was honestly compelling and insightful!
Within the present day society that is very hard to manage.
Regards, Marjorie
I, too, grew up in a small town fundamentalist church, and rejoice that the demand for such institutions has declined enough that there is no need for the capacity installed. That said, I have the same nostalgic feelings toward the congregation that started in my parents’ home, so feel your pain at the same time. And, please, let me join the choruses, especially of those Stamps-Baxter songs; I’ll take any of the four parts!