Ghosts In the Shadows

The church directory from 1988.

It was 1988, and I just took the position of Youth Minister and Music Director at a small, Southern Baptist church in what is the Westlawn area of Mobile, Alabama. Brenda and I were married only three years at the time, with a baby son and a daughter on the way. As a student at Mobile College, I struggled to pay bills while attempting to maintain a strong grade point average. I was about a year away from graduation when this little church called. It seemed the meager salary would help meet the financial needs of my young family.

The Westlawn community was once a thriving neighborhood in Mobile. In 1938, when the Army Air Corps took over a 1,000 acres of land and called it Brookley Army Air Field, it was perched in a ready position to serve the nation after the U.S. was invaded by Japan in 1941. Brookley Field quickly became the supply base for the Air Corps in the southeastern United States and the Caribbean. Eventually, some 17,000 skilled civilians would find employment there. Housing projects popped up all over Mobile, pushing westward past the city's expanding boundary.

The need to provide housing for the workers was met by developers who built small, affordable single-family homes, with just enough room for sleeping and eating. Many of the families that moved into these homes, and in the surrounding neighborhoods, would eventually meet to discuss the formation of a new church to serve the immediate community. In the 1950s and '60s, Westlawn grew to become a notable congregation in greater Mobile. A large sanctuary was built to accommodate growth, along with several floors of classrooms and a recreational building, made from the bones of the first worship space.

It was a booming place until Brookley Field closed in June, 1969, eliminating 10% of local jobs for the Mobile workforce. Soon, people moved away to find work, and the church began to see evidence of the change: attendance in weekly services diminished, the halls of the educational building became increasingly silent, and the roller skates and basketballs from the recreation space were locked away.

Here I am, leading the Westlawn choir.

Immediately after starting work there, I began exploring the spaces that people rarely entered anymore. Even though we used the sanctuary for weekend services, it mostly stood empty--1950s decor and all--looking much as it had when it was new, some thirty years before. The balcony was still filled with pews and hymnals that probably hadn't been used in years, and a layer of dust settled on what was originally designed to accomodate overflow crowds when the church was bursting at it's seams. 

The classrooms of the Sunday school building were filled with bulletin boards, replete with pictures of Bible characters and children's artwork still clinging to the cork surface. Old, out-of-tune pianos, wooden lecterns and metal folding chairs were left in place from when the last classes adjourned a decade earlier. 

The dark recreation space was stocked with old sporting equipment. Even a refreshment room, including a menu with prices for drinks and snacks, stood ready to serve. Roller skates, organized by shoe size, were still resting in their slots. The wooden floor of the gym, once carefully maintained, was now covered in worn circles and shapes, sanded away by years of squeaky tennis shoes and roller skates--evidence of a once bourgeoning summer and after-school hangout.

As I stood alone in those spaces, the eerie presence of an older generation, like ghosts, seemed to stare at me from the darkness. The oil paintings of former pastors, standing watch in the hallway by the old library, intensified the feeling. It seemed that from the shadows, voices were calling out at me, asking, "What are you going to do with all of this?" Sadness came over me with the thought that this once lively place of play, learning and worship, now had become a home for mice, termites and mold. 

I left Westlawn after a few years of ministry. In that short time I was ordained, I baptized people, officiated weddings, and led my first funeral for a former student in the youth group. It was there I forged relationships that would propel me into a song writing career. I cherish my time with that congregation, not only for the church's place in my life and ministry career, but also for the the contribution Westlawn made in the community.

What Westlawn's congregation accomplished over the years wasn't in vain. The purpose for those buildings--the spaces and ministries--were all for the Glory of God. As my pastor said in his sermon this past Sunday: "In the end, the only things that will last are the Word of God and people." 

May our ministries thrive to honor God, and may we spend time facilitating our love for Him while loving people. For me, that's how Westlawn Baptist Church will always be remembered.