Ridgecrest Baptist …

Ridgecrest Baptist still stands on Abingdon Road in Columbia.  Last time I drove by there, about three months ago, the small tree from the 60’s on the front lawn had grown taller than the church, and a storm had broken it big time.

Everything about the church and it’s grounds looked shabby.  The Laura Hollis Building needed some serious work, and the white block building at the back wasn’t white any more.  My WW and I enjoyed our wedding reception in the Laura Hollis Building about 48 years ago.  The block building housed the Sunday School nursery back in the old days, and the RA’s and GA’s met there, too.  That’s Royal Ambassadors and Girls Auxiliary for those who forget.

The Laura Hollis Building was the church sanctuary until the sparkling new church was built right next to it.  Deacons would remove a portion of the Hollis Building floor so baptisms could take place there in a pit.  Kinda eerie back then.  We used mostly folding chairs for worship services in the Hollis Building.  Afterwards, we would walk next door through the construction mess to see how much progress had been made the previous week on the new church.  I thought it would never be finished.

Ridgecrest was an active and thriving church back in the 60’s.  Reverend Vello Forrester was the pastor, and the church had many families in leadership roles.  This could cause trouble because of omissions, but I’ll name a few:  the McCaws, Crofts, Kalutzes, Lybrands, Readys, Millers, Belfords, Lyons, Hedgepaths, Elkins and even a family with the last name of Church.  Many with the same names anchored the church on the board of deacons year after year.  They cut and raked the grounds when needed, prepared food for gatherings, set up the Hollis Building for weddings and receptions, taught classes and volunteered time for youth outings.

Sunday School was vibrant and included Bible drills for youngsters:  Attention!  … Draw Swords (Bibles) … Find – Matthew 28: 19-20; Matthew 28:19-20 … Ready … Charge!  And the flurry of pages turning began until someone stepped forward with fingers on the designated scripture.  Locating lesser-known books like Ezekiel or Amos or Micah was always difficult;  the New Testament not as challenging except for a couple like Titus or Philemon.

Morning worship services were marked by families sitting together and usually on the same pew week after week.  And, it wasn’t a legitimate service without Annie Nungezer at the organ. The evening service was preceded by Training Union, mostly a good excuse for young people to socialize while at church and afterwards.  Mid-week Prayer Meetings were held every Wednesday, sparsely attended but a good platform for more social activities for young people.  And prayers, many times long, long, sleep-inducing prayers.  Seems like Mr. Ready was the longest-winded, but others weren’t far behind.

Even though I could not sing a lick, I enjoyed music from the Baptist Hymnal.  Favorites included any song by the official church trio of Myrtice Miller, Evelyn Kalutz and Thelma Dugosh; a solo of The King’s Business by Ernest Miller, whose bass voice was deeper than the Hollis Building baptismal pool; and, any song by big John Jones, a round music director who sat on the dais but could not stay awake for an entire service.  Before services would begin, friends and I would try to guess the time his eyes would close and his head would nod.  One of us would cough or clear our throat to see if we could jolt Big John awake and then try our best not to laugh.  All of this, of course, while listening to Rev. Forrester’s message.

My cousin Bill once visited Ridgecrest with me.  It was a morning service and the invitational hymn, which comes at the end of Baptist services, was Just As I Am.  I do believe that Ridgecrest sometimes extended the invitation – and continued to sing verse after verse – until someone came forward to join or re-commit their life. Well, cousin Bill, not necessarily sound spiritually back then, was astonished after at least a dozen verses of Just As I Am.  “I was ready to walk the aisle myself,”  he said, but not for the right reason.

Homecoming Sunday was another highlight at Ridgecrest.  Former members, present members and prospective members converged at the corner of Abingdon and Hillcrest for normally the largest congregation of the year.  I always suspected that people came mostly for the food – covered dishes that always included too few deviled eggs but plenty of fried chicken and desserts.

The vibrant church began to wain as the neighborhood started to disperse to the suburbs, primarily to the growing St. Andrews area.  Many members commuted for years before moving their memberships, and the next generation and the next were not as committed.  Growth leveled off and then began to decline, a familiar trend for many community churches.  What remains is a shabby shadow of a once-proud community church.

When I took a right turn off Duke Avenue three months ago, I was anxious and apprehensive about what might be ahead.  One block up on the left was Ridgecrest Baptist and the dingy Laura Hollis Building.  The huge oak, planted shortly after the new sanctuary was dedicated, was broken and splintered.  With no deacons to clean it up.

I took a picture that day but will not publish it.  I’d rather Ridgecrest Baptist be remembered as the vibrant church of the 1960’s that touched many lives.