Abandoned churches and the lessons they leave: Part 2 Legacy

A little valley in The Great Smoky Mountains National Park, known as Cades Cove, is one of the most visited areas in the park. The valley has a road that is an eleven-mile loop through the area. The road gives visitors access to view the natural beauty and visit the structures that remain in the area. Among these structures are three churches. As the Park Service began to buy up the property in the 1920s, the population of Cades Cove began to leave. With the departure of the residents, the three churches of Cades Cove were left without congregations.

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Several years ago, my family and I spent some time in Cades Cove. I was most fascinated by the three church buildings that remain in the valley. (Read my introduction for more about these buildings.) As I walked through the three church buildings, imagining the ministries they once housed, the people who once sat in the pews, and the pastors who preached in the pulpits, I was struck by what these now-silent buildings could say to congregations today. As I explored the buildings and pondered what they once were and have become, three ideas came to mind: simplicity, legacy, and ministry. Today I want to consider the legacy that these now-abandoned churches continue to have.

Outside of each church building are small cemeteries. The tombstones are a lasting witness of those who worshiped in each congregation. These gardens of the dead have their own stories to tell about the congregations that worshiped in these buildings. Common surnames top many of the stone markers telling of prominent families in each church. Dates of birth and death are chiseled into each grave marker giving witness to the world that the occupant knew at birth, the events of history they knew in life, and the plenty or scarcity of the number of their days at death. Though most markers give up few secrets other than the most basic biographical information about the person that lies beneath, some speak, though cryptically, a more elaborate witness. Historians tell us that the residents of Cades Cove were greatly divided in their loyalties during the Civil War. The festering disunity in the congregations was so great that the churches chose not to hold services for long periods during the war. One grave marker leaves no doubt about the loyalties of the one buried beneath by declaring that rebels in North Carolina murdered its occupant. Other graves are remarkable simply because of their age. This is particularly true for the graves of those who fought in the Revolutionary War. Yet these realities are expected. These churches are old; thus, so are the inhabitants of their cemeteries. Though remarkable, it is expected to find graves of those who died long ago. However, what I did not expect to find in these old cemeteries beside abandoned church buildings were modern grave markers. The congregations that built these buildings and buried their dead in these cemeteries have long since disbanded, but I discovered in the freshly turned dirt and slabs of marble not yet stained by the abuse of weather that their legacy remains.

In the late 1920s, the government created the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, which includes Cades Cove. It was not an easy transition. Though initially told that their land was not to be incorporated into the park, the Tennessee legislature later passed legislation giving the Park Commission the power to seize properties by eminent domain. When the residents of the Cove realized the Park Commission intended to take their land, they put up significant resistance, even going so far as to warn the head of the Park Commission not to come within forty miles for risk of his life. Though today what remains in the park are only the structures representative of early Appalachia pioneer life, the people of the Cove in the 1920s were as well educated and modern as any rural community of the day. Their fight to keep their land and receive a fair market price would be heard several times by the Tennessee Supreme Court and require additional legislation before the government eventually prevailed. The last residents left the Cove on Christmas day, 1937. Today the Park Service maintains the Cove as a meadow not significantly dissimilar from its appearance while supporting the farms of its former residents. Yet this was not always the intention. Plans for the land to return to a natural state or be redeveloped have been considered. Thwarting some of these plans was the Primitive Baptist Church. In defiance of the Park Service, this congregation continued to meet in Cades Cove until the 1960s. But for all practical purposes, there has not been an active residential community in the valley for over ninety years. And with the dispossession of the residents also came the evaporation of the congregations of all three churches. However, to this day, all three church graveyards show signs of recent activity. This activity, these recent graves, give evidence of the continuing legacy of these old churches.

When a church no longer has a congregation, it is no more. Like feeling for a pulse to ascertain if life remains in a body, the regular gathering of the congregation is the most basic sign of life for a church. When churches die, they usually suffer from long slow deaths, and it is difficult to identify the cause. Often blame is attributed to current leadership or events, but generally, the real cause is so long past and ingrained in the history and story of the church that it is little noticed. The death of a church is painful. For those who know the hope of the gospel and abundant life in Christ, it is especially distressing to witness the loss of effective ministry, silencing of preaching, and the withering of a biblical witness to a dying world. Sometimes churches die because they have lost their way. Substituting the power of the resurrection for the weakness of human wisdom, the authority of scripture for the foolishness of man's opinion, or the freedom of righteousness for the chains of sin is fatal to any church. Yet this is not the exclusive cause of church demise. Sometimes, more practical forces separate a church from its ministry field. The churches of Cades Cove surely had their own struggles and dysfunctions, but they did not die from internal causes but rather the loss of their community. When, in the 1920s, the government declared Cades Cove a National Park and began buying the land from its inhabitants, the days of these three churches were numbered. Though the buildings remain, the people do not. As the residents moved to other places, the churches lost their ministry community. And even though the Primitive Baptist Church met for another 30 years, the hope for effective ministry was lost when the Cove ceased to be a place of homes and became a museum.

Though these church buildings no longer house congregations that have a gospel witness to the community of the Cove, their ministry legacy remains. These cemeteries, with their old grave markers nearby freshly turned dirt, and unblemished marble slabs of more recent burials, give witness to the continuing legacy of these abandoned churches. It has been eighty-five years since the last resident of Cades Cove left their land, and the graveyards still speak. They speak of a lasting legacy that remains even after the community is gone. They speak of a connection that lasts long after the churches cease to meet. The legacy of these congregations remains through the families of those whose lives were transformed through the ministries of these churches.

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We tend to assume that what exists today will remain in perpetuity, yet longevity nor permanency is promised. We desire to build and maintain things that will last, but everything in this world is temporal. Even in our conservation efforts, we know that we may be able to preserve but never keep. We understand that without life, decay is ever-present. These churches once were the epicenter of community life but now sit silent and without purpose. The buildings that once housed the life of their congregations now are empty and will one day stand no longer. Though hewed from solid rock, we know that the grave markers that remain beside each church building will slowly submit to the command of time and the abuse of weather. Though the emblem of strength, these stones will eventually relinquish the clarity and crispness of the names carved into their faces and eventually be brought low, cracking and crumbling, and be no more. But the preservation of these church buildings and cemeteries or the continuation of the ministries of these church congregations is not the legacy of their work. The legacy of their work is connected to the eternal nature of the gospel they preached. Isaiah 55:11 proclaims that the word of God will not return empty. The word of God preached from these now-abandoned pulpits brought many who lived in that valley to salvation. Through faith in Jesus, individuals were rescued from eternity in hell, and the grace of God transformed families. The legacy of this work is not just in the names engraved on markers in the cemeteries but, more importantly, names written in the Lamb's book of Life.

Legacy is not something that can be purchased or produced. It is something earned. It may be true that legacy is often described in terms of accomplishments, but on the whole, it is not merely statistics and accolades but something much deeper and more difficult to quantify. Though politicians attempt to create it and Hollywood strives to manipulate it, a good legacy is more related to relationships than perceptions. The power of legacy is not in mass recognition but rather in the affected lives of people who come after. Once a transformational change has occurred in one's life, there is no going back. Your church's legacy will not be in its buildings nor the size of its membership rolls, for there have been churches before that have built mighty structures that are no more and congregations of impressive size that meet no longer. No, the church's legacy is found in the lives changed by Jesus Christ. Though our affection may be connected to a specific church or place where we first heard the good news, the true power of a church's legacy is the gospel. Legacy happens when a young man surrenders his heart to Jesus and then shares the good news with his family, children, and grandchildren. Legacy happens when a child is cared for by the church; then she grows to maturity, having the word of God hidden in her heart. Legacy happens when long after the preaching is done, the teaching is finished, and the house of worship is no longer filled that the lives of those impacted by the ministry remain faithful to God and His word.

It may be that someday the church buildings we have built will no longer hold congregations. It may be that someday the communities we now live in will be no more. It may be that someday the church congregations we are now members of no longer gather. Regardless of these things, if a church is faithful to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ, there will never be a day when that effort ceases to bear fruit. Buildings are temporary, communities sometimes dissipate, and even church congregations have a life cycle, but the word of God remains forever. The legacy of the church is the word of God preached and lives transformed by the saving work of the gospel. This legacy has no end.