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By Heather Hahn*
7:00 A.M. EST Feb. 9, 2011 | TULIP, Ark. (UMNS)
Tulip United Methodist Church in south-central Arkansas opens for worship
once a month. A UMNS photo by Heather Hahn.
View in Photo Gallery
Sunlight streams through the frosted-glass windows of Tulip United
Methodist Church, a white, wooden building on the side of a little-used
country road.
Entering a sanctuary that holds the tangy, old-wood scent of an
antique shop, congregants catch up on news about far-flung children and
grandchildren, and buck each other up through the maladies of aging and
the routines of retirement.
The church cannot afford bulletins. But the 15 worshippers do not
need them. The order of worship is as familiar and reassuring as a
favorite recipe.
They share joys and concerns — one celebrates a local crafts fair she
visited, the pastor expresses delight that his granddaughter lost a
tooth. They pray, sing beloved hymns like “What a Friend We Have in
Jesus,” recite The Apostles’ Creed taped to the front of their 1966
Cokesbury hymnals, take up an offering and listen to a sermon.
And then they have more fellowship.
“They are like family to me,” Ida Mae Nutt, 83, says of her fellow
congregants. “But we’re not connected in any way except through the
church.”
Ida Mae Nutt, the last surviving member of Carthage United Methodist
Church, shows the Rev. James Batts some water damage on the brick
building. A UMNS photo by Heather Hahn.
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This spirit of community is why these 15 people keep not only the
Tulip church open, but also three other nearby churches in Dallas County
in south-central Arkansas. They rotate each Sunday among the four
churches — Hunter’s Chapel, Tulip, Waverly and Carthage — honoring the
memories each of the buildings holds.
Their commitment to maintain all four churches is a story of
sacrifice multiplied in small United Methodist congregations throughout
the United States. Yet the best intentions are not always enough to keep
rural churches going in an age when so many people and institutions —
manufacturers, schools and businesses — have fled rural communities.
In 2009, 207 rural churches closed their doors. In the past decade,
the number of rural congregations has declined by more than 3,000 to
slightly more than 20,000 today.
United Methodist leaders, presiding over an aging denomination losing
U.S. members and resources, are asking the church to place priority on
building “vital” churches, and to hold bishops and pastors accountable
for membership growth.
Many in the rural church feel they are being left behind precisely at their moment of greatest need.
Hanging on
Nutt, who grew up Southern Baptist, married into Carthage United
Methodist Church in 1950. She and her late husband, John, a longtime
song leader at the church, enjoyed traveling to Saturday night
“singings” at area congregations.
Back then, Carthage was a thriving sawmill town with grocery stores,
service stations, a doctor’s office, a drug store and an auto
dealership.
Today, the town’s population has dropped by half to slightly more
than 400. The mill, sold years ago to a company based in Idaho, now
employs few locals. Children, including Nutt’s two daughters, grew up
and moved away to look for work. A handful of churches are what remains
of the community’s once bustling downtown. Grass rustles on barren lots
where many of the town’s houses and shops once stood.
Nutt is the sole surviving member of Carthage United Methodist Church.
From a larger denominational perspective, there are concerns about
the wisdom of keeping open four churches within a few miles of each
other for just 16 official members.
The United Methodist Church has far more buildings than it needs,
admits the Rev. Roger Grace, president of the United Methodist Rural
Fellowship. Many were built when the main mode of transportation was a
horse, and people only could travel a few miles to get to church.
“The ties many times are to the building, and it’s very difficult for
people to let go emotionally,” Grace says. “If you think rationally and
logically, it’s not that difficult a choice. But if you think with your
heart instead of your mind, this is what happens. There is a real sense
of failure if people let go of their church.”
Denominational leaders also worry that preserving smaller, “family”
congregations limits outreach to newcomers. In Carthage, for example,
the population is largely African American, but the four nearest United
Methodist churches are all white.
New life brings new hope at rural churches. Avery Guest,
6 months, keeps a watchful eye on Kati Thain during worship
at Gilboa (Ohio) United Methodist Church. A UMNS photo by
Mike DuBose.
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And yet there is something both Wesleyan and Christlike in the
efforts of members of even the smallest churches to keep faith alive in
their communities, advocates for such churches say.
For her part, Nutt rebuffs requests from her daughters that she move
to their cities. She feels needed in Carthage, where she is a bookkeeper
for the town water department as well as her church’s main caretaker.
She contributes about $145 a month to help pay for the pastor, the
church’s liability insurance, maintenance costs and apportionments. She
cleans the inside of the church and weeds and trims overgrown bushes
outside.
Each day draws her closer to God.
“I see how he has been with me all through my life,” she says. “I
have wondered many times how have I ever made it through. But it always
comes back that God has been with me and taken me through all this. He
is still watching over me today.”
Continued on page two
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