A match made in heaven

CONCORD — Over the years, I’ve been to a lot of weddings at a lot of different churches. Sunday provided something different — a wedding of two churches.

And like all nuptial ceremonies, it reached that pivotal point where the minister sought confirmation from the audience.

“Are there any lingering questions?” the Rev. Larry Davies asked, looking over the partially-filled pews inside Mount Olivet United Methodist Church.

Silence.

“Wow, we’ve been over it that much, huh?” Davies said with a nervous laugh. “Or are you all just hungry?” (A covered-dish lunch was being prepared downstairs).

There were smiles, but no verbal response.

“OK, then,” Davies said. “All in favor, say ‘Aye.’”

A strong affirmative chorus rang out.

“Opposed?” No one.

He could have then added, but didn’t: “I now pronounce you church and church.”

If you think of Mount Olivet — better known around Concord as “the church on the hill” — as the bride, it was marrying up. Timberlake United Methodist, which plans to merge with its smaller denominational cousin, is much larger, considerably richer and growing. Mount Olivet was down to the same number of regular disciples as Jesus, 13.

At the same time, the smaller church has a history of being a survivor. Established in the late 1800s, it has been destroyed by fire and physically moved from one Campbell County location to another. The latest threat, however, was more insidious.

“It just happened over time,” said member Connie McClanahan. “The children who grew up in the church moved away, and after awhile, it was just the older members, who started dying off.”

“We knew something had to be done to save the church,” added her husband, Henry. “This just seemd to make the most sense.”

The sign on one wall inside the Mount Olivet sanctuary provided mute evidence. Last Sunday’s attendance was 13, the offering $254 — an admirable amount for 13 people, but barely enough to handle the heating bill for the month.

For District UMC Superintendent Davies, who presided over most of Timberlake’s growth, this is a step out in a bold direction, a daring effort to implant what he calls Timberlake’s “DNA” in another location. The plan is to close Mount Olivet until Easter, then re-open it as Timberlake United Methodist/Mount Olivet.

Like a franchise, in a way.

“We’d like to do some of the same thing here that Timberlake does,” Davies said. “We have a breakfast before church, for example.”

At Timberlake, Davies has focused on single adults (having once gone through a divorce himself, he is senstivie to the needs of that group) and what he calls “bridge ministries.”

“Things like early learning centers, day care, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts. Through them, people get to you know and start to feel comfortable with you.”

Mount Olivet sits perched on a ridge at the top of Oxford Furnace hill on 460 East, a proud vantage point to which it was moved in the 1950s.

“The thing that struck me when I came here,” said Timberlake assistant pastor Tom Bryant, who will help with the transition, “was the photographs downstairs of how the church leaders then had the foresight to move the church physically so it would be more front and center. In a sense, today’s leaders are doing the same thing.”

Mount Olivet’s minister is the Rev. James “Wimpy” Martin, a genial former dairy farmer who also pastors two other churches in the county.

“When I started approaching other churches with this idea, most of them thought I was crazy,” Davies said. “Wimpy was the only one who said, ‘Maybe he’s just a little crazy.’”

Certainly, Mount Olivet seems to be blessedly devoid of the competition and turf rivalries that afflict many churches.

“They key thing is, nobody in this church wants to hold on to power,” Martin said. “They just want their church to survive.”

“I’d like to see more people here again,” said long-time member Margaret Routon, who has found warmth and comfort at Mount Olivet amidst a recent plague of poor health. “It’s sad to see it the way it is.”

Before the service, the congregation and a few visitors sang along to Debbie Johnson’s ringing piano chords: “There shall be showers of blessing, precious reviving again. Over the hills and the valleys, sound of abundance of rain.”

The Scripture of the day was from 1 Chronicles 4:9-10: “Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory.”

Davies predicted that he would return in six months, “and there will be 125 people here, and you’re going to be talking about having a second service.”

According to Martin, his congregation faced the change with acceptance, determination and a little sadness.

“It was all enthusiasm at first,” he said, “but then when it got closer to the time …”

As a roving pastor, Martin always has to miss the lunch at Mount Olivet. At 10:45, he stood up, told the congregation: “I’m going to have to borrow y’all’s piano player for one more week,” and he and Debbie Johnson headed out the back door to the next service.

Outside, a cold wind whipped around the church on the hill, but the warmth inside remained.