The sun was setting in the west and the shadows were lengthening when this columnist headed out one Saturday on his way to a Sunday speaking engagement in the country. The destination was Straightstone Baptist Church in the northeast corner of Pittsylvania County. The occasion was the church's 200th anniversary.
The route was through the woods. By the time the automobile drove through the surrender grounds near Appomattox, darkness had fallen. A little fawn almost had its life ended as it crossed busy Highway 460 in the dark. A quick turn of the steering wheel and fawn and driver remained alive.
At Highway 24, the wheels turned toward Concord. I passed some familiar churches from previous engagements over the years. At Gladys, I turned onto Highway 761, crossed the railroad tracks and headed out into the darkness. The road was narrow. The farmhouses few. The lights in the darkness were even fewer.
Pastor James Manuel had given the city visitor excellent directions; and soon, exactly on time, arrival was made at the parsonage, an attractive brick rancher about a mile or so from the church. Rejoicing over my arrival through the darkness, I sat up till late with Jim and his wife, Vicki, and talked about the Baptist world and about Straightstone Church. Jim and I discovered that we shared something in common. We both had been born in the same hospital in the same town, separated by a couple of decades.
I learned that like many country churches on out-of-the-way backroads, Straightstone had declined over the years in numerical growth; but the pastor was quick to say that the church had grown spiritually and had increased its hands-on involvement and hearts-on passion for missions. Even the offering plate dollars had increased and the church went over its budget, a rarity these days for any church anywhere. The spirit and the spunk of Straightstone Baptists was as strong as ever in its two centuries.
John William Barbour was one of the 19th-century soldiers of the cross who labored at Straightstone along with other churches on a rural field. Like most of his generation, he had few educational advantages. He only went to school for three weeks and his world collapsed. His father was killed in the Civil War and his mother was left with 11 children to rear. John William was nine and was pulled out of the old school to work in the fields. He cried to go to school but to no avail.
Out of the darkness in which his childhood was spent, he found a great source of light. He discovered the Bible. Every moment which could be seized beyond farm work was spent in reading and memorizing vast passages of the Bible. In time, he felt called to the gospel ministry, to share the great truths of the Light of the world.
In terms of distance, Barbour never went very far. He was pastor of four country churches at the same time. The muddy or dusty country roads of Pittsylvania and Halifax were the extent of his travels.
Barbour and the other preachers of the 19th-century depended upon capable laypersons. One local couple, Olive and Thomas Hill Wooding kept the light burning at their country home, Wild Wood. Barbour and many another preacher knew that they could find respite at the Wooding homeplace. It was said of Tom Wooding, the long-time clerk of the church, that he was “patient, kind, thoughtful, generous, liberal to the poor, and loyal to his pastor.”
Across the years there were numerous pastors and a small army of laypersons who kept the gospel light burning brightly in the darkness–the darkness of a starry-skied country night and the darkness within the inner lives of men and women.
The years have piled up for old Straightstone. There have been so many years that no one living seems certain of how the church received its name. Perhaps it was for a creek by the same name which meanders nearby. Rolen Bailey, a well-known retired Baptist minister, was pastor of the church in the 1950s and he compiled a history. He traced the church back to Zion Hill which was constituted in 1806 under the leadership of John Jenkins. Three years later, the church relocated and was named Straight Stone. The little congregation celebrated the Lord's Supper with “light wine” until about 1900. The old records note that in 1846 a deacon was paid 75 cents for providing the wine and the bread.
In 1916 the women organized a Woman's Missionary Union. When the great fundraising effort called the 75 Million Campaign was launched in the 1920s by Southern Baptists, Straightstone members pledged and, despite hard economic times, made contributions. One Sunday in the '20s was designated for “a self-denial offering” to help meet the pledges to the denomination.
In time there were changes that came even to the rural countryside of Virginia. Roads were paved. Electricity lighted isolated farmhouses. Public schools were built. But the darkness was still there. It was there when travelers left the last streetlight and headed into the black. It was there when people were lost in their own despair. Straightstone Baptist Church has attempted to keep bright the Light of the One who came that there might be light even out in the darkness.
Fred Anderson is executive director of the Virginia Baptist Historical Society and the Center for Baptist Heritage and Studies. He may be contacted at P.O. Box 34, University of Richmond, VA 23173.