old time religion down at the south end
The Little Church of the Ravine actually sits on a knoll above an old logging skid road ruled now by blackberries so thick an old Studebaker can be hidden most seasons, only occasionally glimpsed in winter. The car looks like it was caught in a thorny web and try as it might, no earthly horsepower is going to set it free. The reader sign out by the church entrance has revolving words of evangelical wisdom Shaky Jake changes when the words come down from on high, meaning when the Reverend asks him.
7DAYS WITHOUT PRAYER MAKES ONE WEAK.
HAVING TROUBLE SLEEPING — SERMONS R US
HONK IF YOU LOVE JESUS — TEXT WHILE DRIVING IF YOU WANT TO MEET HIM
Under the pithy weekly message it says: REV. RALPH MEAKER and under that:
A NON-DENOMINATIONAL CHURCH
SUNDAY SERVICES 9 A.M.
We South Enders assume by non-denominational they have no money. What they do have are plenty of sinners in search of salvation. Well, in need of salvation. Every Sunday they ring the bell that was stolen (or ‘rescued’ , depending on the teller) from the Mabana one room Schoolhouse which now houses the administrative offices of the Elger Bay School of Aesthetic Enlightenment. The school has asked for the bell back, but essentially were told it tolls for thee.
The Little Church of the Ravine draws a fairly sizeable congregation, especially considering the Chapel up north’s gravitational pull, with its basketball courts and gyms, youth programs, daycare and state of the art sound systems, could easily drain the flock. But the Little Church, despite its plain jane exterior, its lack of stained glass filled traceries, its metal folding chairs instead of pews, has saved souls since the early 60’s and stills sends missionary support to far flung infidel-filled places like Indonesia and Africa and Smokey Point.
Back in the 70’s they lost half their congregation over a fight to make a park down at the public Port of Mabana, once a pier hundreds of feet out into Saratoga Strait about 1920, now some amputated pilings exposed at minus tides. The locals wanted to condemn some unused property to make parking possible and this pitted old family against old neighbors until the acrimony got so bad not even Jesus Himself could make the peace and the Little Church split into two factions and finally only one stayed. The private property wasn’t condemned. Houses were hurriedly built. Port Commissioners were sued and forced to resign. The park never got anywhere and folks who’d been friends for generations stopped saying hello. You can park now by the beach at the port, walk your dog or launch a small boat. And you can attend services up the bluff at the church every Sunday. 9 AM. The bell tolls. The old Studebaker tries to drive on through, but like most things down here gone to rot and rust and ruin, salvation is hard to do.
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