Articles & Stories
The "Church
On The Hill"
Remains A Treasured Memory
Built
In 1924, This Church Building Served The Community
Of Cumberland In Harlan County For Many Years
By Ron Lloyd - 2007
I was
carried through the Cumberland Pentecostal Church doors for the
first time and placed in a manger as the baby Jesus in a 1945
Christmas play. This little church later played a major role
in my desire to know more about the one whom I had portrayed.
It was in this church at Cumberland, Harlan County, Kentucky,
I made the decision to follow the Christ child all the days of
my life. To the many people who kept the doors of this church
open, I owe a debt of gratitude. It is a debt I cannot repay.
I could never give back even a small part of what the church
gave me.
In its primitive and formative years, many modern conveniences,
taken for granted today, were lacking in the building and on
the grounds. When built in 1924, there was not even a road to
the church. It was accessible by a walking path because few of
its members could afford automobiles. There was no indoor plumbing.
An outhouse served to answer the call of nature. The main source
of heat in the winter was a big potbellied stove sitting near
the front-center of the room. Many times the old stove glowed
red with intense heat. As the black chunks of coal feeding its
hungry appetite burned hotter, the stove pipe turned cherry red.
In the hot days of summer all windows were opened, and Parker
Funeral Home hand-held fans were used by everyone to keep the
air circulating. If someone tried to squash a mosquito with his
hands, it sounded like clapping, and a yell from across the room
would go up, "Bless him, Lord!" The preacher would
wipe sweat, swat bugs, and swallow flies, as he preached with
great exuberance about escaping the heat of hell.
The heritage of this church was passed to me by my grandfather,
William M. Hall. He and his twin brother, Henry, along with Harrison
M. Blair and Ed Smith, were the first trustees who started the
small assembly and nurtured its young growth. If there was ever
a family church, this was the Hall family church. All of Henry's
and Will's children, at least the older ones, attended this church
in their early years. The Hall brothers along with Harrison Blair,
Hop Flannery, and others built the pews by hand. The pews were
not fancy but served the purpose and were actually nice for the
times. Of course, they were not padded. The Halls were already
worshipping in this church before my father and his three brothers
came to Harlan County seeking jobs in the coal mines. Three of
the Lloyd brothers married daughters of Will and Henry Hall.
Grandpa Harvey Lloyd was later to become the official "bell
ringer." No one knows for sure how he got this title. All
over the west side of Cumberland the bell from the church on
the hill could be heard early every Sunday morning. He faithfully
rang the bell for many years, until age caught up with him, and
he no longer had the strength to pull the rope and swing the
bell. He insisted that the bell had to be swung. He knew the
sounds were much sweeter because the to-and-fro motion gave a
cadence which one does not get when the bell is simply struck
with a hammer.
The Cumberland
Pentecostal Church was known by everyone in the community as
"the church on the hill." It sat on a rise in Cumberland,
Harlan County, Kentucky. At the time of this photo, ca. 1930,
there was only a walking path up to the little church.
(Photo courtesy of Ron Lloyd.)
Known
to his grandchildren simply as Paw, Grandpa Harvey was affectionately
known in church as "Skippy" for his emotional expression
of worship. When the music and singing started, he would get
excited. By the look on his face, one could see it coming. Something
was about to happen. Slowly he stood, pulled at his pants, and
then in beat to the music he would start skipping. He would skip
across the front, then down the aisle, back to the front, around
the altar a couple of times, up to the pulpit, hug the pastor,
and then slowly walk back to his seat and sit down. He was at
peace with God, himself, and everyone in the congregation. Fellow
worshipers understood exactly what had happened and loved him
for his unusual expression of faith. To those uninitiated to
the Pentecostal style of worship, this act would have seemed
irreverent and disrespectful. To Paw, his skipping was as normal
as partaking of the consecrated bread and wine in Holy Communion.
In my mind's eye, I can see him stepping out on a cloud and skipping
all the way to heaven.
My first remembrance of going to church as a young boy was with
my family. We put on the best clothes we had and proudly traveled
in the old 1950 Chevrolet pickup truck. The road up the hill
to the church was graveled and rough with only one lane. Later,
funds were raised among church members to pave the street. The
fact that a little church could raise enough money to pave the
road was a big celebrated event. A basement was added and a modern
coal-burning furnace was installed. The temperature control still
left much to be desired. About mid-service, one of the elders
would leave his seat, walk to the back of the building, and noisily
clump down the stairs to feed the hot air blowing monster another
block of coal.
Many pastors came and went. Most I only knew historically. Probably
the one minister who influenced me most was Claude Ely, a pastor
for five years when I was barely a teen. Ely made famous the
song, Ain't No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down. His musical influence
is still studied today by folk music scholars, and at least one
of his CDs is available through Amazon. I traveled with him during
one of his revival services near Hindman, just to keep him awake
during the late night drive back home across Jewel Ridge and
Pine Mountain. Other times we would go out and gather food for
families when a loved one died. Looking back, those were special
times spent with a modest man more regionally famous for his
music than he knew.
Other than family, the church was the center of our social life.
There were ladies aid meetings for my mother and youth gatherings
for Dorsel and myself. My father worked so much in the mine he
had little time for anything other than the worship services.
The second Sunday in August was set aside as homecoming day.
Former members who had moved away to find jobs would come back
for that special weekend. A big lunch, we called it dinner-on-
the-ground, was served after the church service. My mother would
get up early and fry chicken, cook green beans, make fresh cole
slaw, bake cornbread, and make banana pudding for the welcomed
guests.
Among the things that made this such a special church was the
friendliness of the people and the love they showed me as a small
insignificant boy. When I was bedfast for five months with rheumatic
fever, they came bearing gifts one Sunday afternoon. There were
so many gifts the bed was completely covered. Through those formative
years, they showed concern for my well-being, both physically
and spiritually. The church on the hill may have been little,
but it was big to me and remains a treasured memory of a childhood
place I once knew. Happy memories of family marriages and sad
memories of family funerals conducted within its walls are some
of the things that still make this church on the hill precious
to me.
The ministry of this church continues today in a modern building
in another location under the very able and capable leadership
of Mike and Barbara Blair.
Ron
Lloyd, 3540 Robinhill Way, Lexington, KY 40513; Ronlloyd@alltel.net,
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