The House That Built Me
Smack-dab in the heart of our hard-to-pronounce Indian-named city of Sylacauga is a two-story beige brick building with stained-glass windows and Greek columns. The First Baptist Church of Sylacauga (pronounced sil-a-cog-ah) has stood in its stately location at Broadway and Fort Williams since 1914. What started as a small cabin with a stick chimney, dirt floors, and log seats by a colonel to Andrew Jackson in 1833 grew to be the largest Baptist church in Sylacauga today.
My parents, George and Margaret O’Kelley, joined First Baptist in 1958 when they moved from Texas. From the time my sisters and I were born until the time we were college-bound, First Baptist was our second home. Vacation Bible School, Sunbeams, Children’s Choir, Youth Choir, Mission Friends, Girls in Action, Sunday School, Wednesday night prayer meetings, two-week revivals – there was always something going on at the church.
At the age of seven, during one of those revivals, I felt the call of God upon my life. The memory is so vivid I recall the brown skirt and sweater I wore when walking down the aisle. Tears flowed, marking the beginning of a lifelong commitment to serve God.
Vacation Bible School brought happy memories. I loved marching in with the Bible or the Christian flag in my hands. And the handmade crafts were the best. (Mother still has a few.)
Sunday School and Training Union instilled a yearning for the Word of God. I loved to do Bible drills. My skills were unparalleled, especially when I had my compact wooden cover Bible from the Holy Land given to me by my Sunday School teacher (which I still have). My knowledge of the Bible was a testimony to teachers like Maxine Parrish, Wilda Jones, and the Ousleys.
First Baptist had a strong influence on my love for music. One of my earliest memories regarding music is Children’s Choir. Mrs. Goza was our director. She had a smooth, mellow voice.
My vocal talents and musical interests landed me in the youth ensemble “The Way.” Being a member of “The Way” was an honor and a privilege I cherished for seven years. We sang numerous songs from the musical group “Truth.” Our audio/visual tech was adept at operating the reel-to-reel tapes we used. I fancied his extreme shyness and took on the challenge to make a breakthrough. Long story short, we celebrated forty-two years of marriage this year!
My skills as a young pianist were put to good use, too. Martha and I shared the responsibility of being Youth Choir and Sunday evening pianists. Those years helped me gain confidence as an accompanist, proving valuable in years to come.
In middle school, I decided to learn to play the organ. Our Minister of Music, Jerry Dykes, offered free lessons. Martha and I dived in to tackle the three-manual instrument with pedals, stops, and pistons. I only received a handful of lessons, enough to whet my appetite.
I often rode my bicycle the 2.5 miles to church to practice. My playing improved. Then, one day, our church organist left. Martha and I were called upon as substitutes until a new organist could be found. We rotated between the organ and piano every Sunday for about 1.5 years. That was quite a responsibility for 15 and 14-year-old teenagers.
From that experience, I was asked to play at the Presbyterian Church and to fill in at an Episcopal Church. At one point, I played the organ for three churches of three denominations!
Today, I serve as the organist at Meadow Brook Baptist in Birmingham, Alabama.
For a small rural city, our youth program was exceptional. We often held fundraisers and hung out on the weekends at “The Solid Rock.” This converted older home was handed off to the youth to become a community outreach. It was equipped with things that youth of the 70s enjoyed.
Our youth group was active in choir tours and mission trips. We sang musicals such as “Celebrate Life.” Parky ran the sound system, and Martha taught me how to sing alto. I learned to step out into an evangelistic role through beach witnessing.
Our youth also participated in intramural church volleyball. I am confident those games in Memorial Park contributed to my participation on the Sylacauga High School Girls Varsity Volleyball team.
It is easy to see how the church impacted and shaped my life through music, love, interests, and spiritual development. I am indebted to the house that built me and to the people who dedicated their time, energy, and love to show me what righteousness looks like, to instill in me a love for God, and to invest their time into my well-being.
Thanks for sharing. It brings back iso many memories of my childhood churches. I didn’t have just one but several that molded me as a young Christian. First Baptist Church of Paris, TX and First Baptist Church of Corsicana, TX hold the fondest memories of Children’s’ Sunday School , camp, GAs, YWAs, Youth Choir and camp. I too had caring teachers, choir directors, and pastors who helped mold me. God is good!
Such a testimony to churches, their programs, staff, and volunteers. I often think Youth Ministers get underestimated as to their role in influencing youth and the lifelong impact it has. Thanks for your response, Barbara.
As I was reading your latest submission, Karen, I quietly chuckled to myself when midway through my read I thought that the church which built me was the same building as the home that built me! 🙂
When a number of my parents’ Christian friends sensed a need to reach the scores of children for Christ in the neighborhood where my family lived, a church plant was organized in our home. Sunday mornings, we had Sunday school classes in each bedroom, in the kitchen, in the sunroom and, weather permitting, in the backyard. Worship services were held in our living room. While all the founders of that plant have now passed into the Presence of the God whom they loved and served, their impact on my life and the lives of so many others will last through eternity.
Thank you, Gracious Father, for Jim and Inez Uber, Betty Buckley, Richard and Leona Wagner, Harry and Lillian Britton … and, of course, my parents.
Wow! What a memory! That is amazing, Dr. Luellen. I can see why you would think the “church” and the “home” were one in the same. I may write about the “city” that built me another day.