I needed to be at Antioch Baptist Church in Orange County at 9:30 on a Sunday morning in August of last year. Shortcut directions routed me through the backdoor. From I-95 I took the Thornburg exit and headed west through rural Spotsylvania County along a twisting narrow country road that allowed for few pull-offs. There were several times when a feeling of panic was emerging. Should I have turned back there? Should I go a little further? I passed a little lane with the ominous name of “Next-to-Never Road.”
Fred Anderson
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At Mine Road Baptist Church the sign read: “Show Me Thy Way, O Lord.” At Craig’s Baptist Church, the sign read: “Prayer Allows You to Talk with God.” I was looking for the way; and as the digital clock on the dashboard began to get closer to 9:30, I certainly was praying. The directions said to look for a smiling face painted on a rock and then to take an immediate left on a dirt road. Lo and behold, just past Craig’s, the smiling face beamed. The road soon took on the surface of an old-time washboard. My vehicle already needed an alignment and now it might need shocks and certainly a good wash job. The dry weather of August produced clouds of dust. Another sign came into view. At the entrance to a pasture was the warning: “Enter at your own risk.”
Finally, I emerged on a hard surface road and a little sign informed me that I had found St. Just, Virginia. When I arrived at the church, I glanced at the dashboard and saw that the time was 9:30. I had made it exactly on time. Even if the name was not on the church, I would have figured that I was in the right place. Menfolks were setting up tables under shade trees for the dinner on the grounds. Women were carrying dishes hidden under dish towels. And over the front doors of the church were painted the dates of its founding in 1833 and its building’s construction date of 1909. Since I was there for the celebration of the centennial of the house of worship, I knew this had to be Antioch.
I first learned of the grand old church about 25 years ago when two of its members, Willie Wood Biscoe and the late Mary Churchill Wright, visited the Virginia Baptist Historical Society’s library to research the church’s history for its 150th anniversary. They published one of the finest church history books. And one of the first persons whom I saw that Sunday morning was Willie Wood Biscoe.
I found Pastor Brian Harfst talking with early arrivals in the old auditorium. The century-old room had changed little over the years. There was an exposed wood ceiling and Gothic-pointed window frames with frosted glass. At the front the platform furniture consisted of stuffed Victorian-era chairs; and the pulpit was an adequately large desk with a flat top occupied by the pulpit Bible. By the time the service started, the room was comfortably full of faithful members and folks who had old family ties to the church and who had returned for homecoming.
Pastor Brian Harfst welcomed visitors to Antioch Church.
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They were in a room which is a sacred place. In it for a century there have been heard words and songs of worship, sermons enough to fill volumes, testimonies of those who found the Lord, vows at the altar as couples united in holy matrimony, and celebratory words at the homegoings of many saints. It contained some of the artifacts of an old church — a silver communion set with the pitcher and single cups and a communion table with a story.
When Mary Churchill Wright wrote the history, she made a discovery in her own kitchen. She read in the minutes of 1833 that the Wright men, John and Benjamin, were to have a communion table made and the church would pay for it. She wondered what became of the original table. She remembered that her father, George Wright, Jr., had brought a table home from the church many years ago. She discovered that the Ladies Aid Society had secured a new communion table in 1919 so she reckoned that the old communion table was brought to the Wright home because there was no storage place in the then one-room church house. She examined her kitchen table and found that it was made of two broad boards and put together with pegs. She arranged to return the table to the church where it became a treasured heirloom. Also among the artifacts are old homemade split-bottom arm chairs; and the church historian remembered that J.H. Biscoe, the church clerk, used to sit in one of those arm chairs near the choir.
If they are to survive, old churches have to adopt some new ways; and just as the communion table and ware changed over the years, there have been changes in some of the outward ways of being Baptist. The basic time-honored principles have remained while Antioch members have kept up-to-date with developments in the Baptist world and stayed informed about new programs and activities.
Brian Harfst became pastor in 2002. He and his wife, who goes by the nickname of Zipper, are graduates of the College of William and Mary where they were active in the Baptist Collegiate Ministry. Harfst also graduated from Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond. He is an engaging and effective young minister who quickly learned the families and customs of the rural church. In 2007, he led the congregation into the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship’s “It’s Time” emphasis. For six weeks the Antioch people considered the missional call of the church and pondered the old church’s identity. “From the study we have brought forward some of the hidden potential for missions,” says the pastor. “I have been excited over our phase of experimentation, letting the Spirit lead us.”
Since the study, the church has revived its youth group, started a special needs Sunday school class, hosted a benefit concert which featured music students, initiated a fund to help families in crisis, and benefited from a team from a Newport News church which worked with the Antioch people for a Bible school and sports camp. The deacons have moved from a family to a team ministry approach.
It is evident that pastor and people enjoy each other and that the old church has more to celebrate than its past. I am glad that I found the dirt road beside the rock with the smiling face. Smiling faces are a good symbol for the Antioch people. By the way, after telling this story my sons equipped me at Christmas with a GPS system. There’s no telling how it would route me to Antioch, but I suspect that it will not be half as adventuresome as looking for the smiling face painted on a rock.
Fred Anderson is executive director of the Virginia Baptist Historical Society and the Center for Baptist Heritage and Studies. He may be contacted at [email protected] or at P.O. Box 34, University of Richmond, VA 23173.