Face toward Mount Gilead

On a recent Sunday morning, this columnist—like Jacob of old—arose, turned the ignition in his Pontiac van (well, that part was unlike Jacob) and set his face toward Mount Gilead. The Mount Gilead in this story is due west from Richmond along I-64 and off the Shannon Hill

exit. It sits a country mile or so south of the busy interstate and the quieter state Highway 250, which even in the country carries its citified name of Broad Street Road. It is in a far western section of Goochland which hugs the Fluvanna line. For 175 years Mount Gilead Baptist Church has maintained a Christian witness at a crossroads known as Tabscott.

It was not my first visit to Mount Gilead. I remember being there for the church's 150th anniversary. At the time I was troubled. One of those every-so-often priorities committees for the General Association had proposed that several of the agencies and institutions affiliated with the BGAV should no longer receive funding. I had only recently come to my work with the Virginia Baptist Historical Society and it was among those on the list.

Among the many people there for the anniversary was Clayton Pitts, who had served as pastor of the church back in the '30s. He was a senior statesman among Virginia Baptists, and desperately needing counsel, I asked if we could have a private moment. We walked among the tombstones of the adjacent cemetery. The older man listened and shared some good advice. He told me that in his half-century of involvement with Virginia Baptists he had seen many proposals which never became reality. “Not to worry” was the essence of his advice. It was good advice. It gave me hope.

People have turned to Mount Gilead with their troubles and with their joys through many generations. They have brought them there because they knew that they could find others who cared. On my visit for the 175th anniversary there were happy sounds of laughter everywhere. Many of the members had raided old trunks and dressed in period costumes. “You will hear a lot of laughing today,” said one long-time member. “Every time we turn the corner and run into another person all dressed up, we break out into laughter.”

When all of the costumed folks gathered for a group photo, one man cracked: “We need a wide-angle lens to get all these people!”

I recognized some of the old-time family names—the Duvalls, the Paynes, the Harlows and the Richardsons. I almost didn't recognize an old friend, Sophia Pryor, because her face was buried in a huge black bonnet. She served as church clerk for 35 years and she accompanied the late Hazel Martin

Richardson on many trips to the Virginia Baptist Historical Society when Mrs. Richardson was researching the church's history for her book, appropriately titled Face Toward Mount Gilead.

Mount Gilead may be tucked away at a country crossroads but the people have kept informed and involved in Baptist life. They know the issues. They resonate with time-honored Baptist principles. They participate in the missions work of their denomination.

Their pastor is Timothy O'Leary Jones, a native of Ohio who worked his way through Berea College in Kentucky. He received his advanced degree from BTSR and was ordained by Mount Gilead. The signature BTSR's servant towel was draped across a multi-volume Bible dictionary in the pastor's study.

The pastor's books were piled high. I am always intrigued to see the contents of a minister's library. One stack included Robert's Rules of Order (which was on top as if having been recently needed), Baker's Funeral Handbook, A Hospital Visitation Manual, The Significance of Church by Brown, Basic Types of Pastoral Counseling, Cotton Patch Parables of Liberation, Blended Worship, Syntax of New Testament Greek, Seeds of Hope: Liberia and Virginia Baptists and The Baptist Identity, by Walter B. Shurden. In the middle of the stack was a book with an intriguing title: When You're Out of Noodles and Other Parables on the Lessons of Life.

Tim Jones has had many predecessors at Mount Gilead. Robert Lilly served at the beginning, giving the church the first Saturday and Sunday of each month. A local man, Lilly became something of a legend. An early biographer was more honest than tactful when he wrote: “His talents as a speaker were not above mediocrity, nor was his knowledge on theological subjects profound, and yet he reached a measure of usefulness which is not attained by many much his superiors in these respects.”

Isaac Newton May was a scholar-preacher who rode his buggy over from Louisa for 25 years, from the 1870s until about 1900. Educated at “the University” in Charlottesville, May operated a school. It was said by a contemporary that May could “out preach” the silver-tongued James B. Hawthorne, a celebrated pastor of First Baptist Church, Richmond. The same observer said: “He possessed a logical mind, analyzed well his subject and always gave his hearers something they could take with them to their homes.”

A long string of “college men” from Richmond College filled the pulpit. They would make the weekend jaunt out into Goochland and try out their preaching skills on the tolerant folks of Mount Gilead. Old Doc Loving of the college, a Fluvanna man himself, used to call that generation of would-be preacherboys by the nickname of “Jaspers,” referring to the famous black preacher John Jasper. The good people of Mount Gilead appreciated the “Jaspers” and helped train them at the beginning of their ministerial careers. Some of those men included Paul Watlington Sr., Samuel Templeman, A.M. Padgett, William Black and John Estes. Their biographies show that they indeed benefited from the country church's training regime.

The old brick church dates to 1852. A columned portico and steeple are more recent additions. A low building hugs the back side of the church and provides a modern fellowship hall and kitchen for those dinners-on-the-grounds expected at country churches. A children's playground keeps the old church inviting to youngsters. Further aside is the well-kept cemetery with floral tributes decorating the tombstones. I glanced over at the graveyard and remembered back to my earlier visit. Yes, when you face toward Mount Gilead there is hope for a better day.

Fred Anderson is executive director of the Virginia Baptist Historical Society and the Center for Baptist Heritage and Studies.