It used to be a country church. Now it’s in the middle of the suburbs, on two of the busiest roads in the state.

Oak Grove Baptist Church sits on Highway 119 near the intersection of U.S. 280. In the eighties it drew attendance of dozens weekly. That’s dwindled. “Now there are more people in the cemetery than the church,” said Rob Langford, who grew up on the other side of the woods behind the church and started walking to attend services at age 11.

“I would walk through the woods to go to church, any time the doors were open,” Langford said. That meant Sunday school at 9:30 a.m. on Sundays, worship at 11 a.m., and dinner in the fellowship hall to follow at noon if it was a special occasion like homecoming. “The food they cooked up after church was some of the best food, some of the best memories I ever had,” he said.

Otherwise, everyone headed to Lloyd’s Restaurant.

“They let out of church early to get to the restaurant before the Methodists,” Langford said. Then it was back for Sunday night service at 6:30 p.m. There would be a Wednesday night fellowship dinner at 6 p.m., followed by Bible study.

‘Quiet life of faith’

“It’s an old-school church,” Langford said. “The most people you could fit in it is 200. They miss you on a Sunday if you’re not there. I sang my first solo there. I was able to get up and sing in that church, where I couldn’t in a bigger church.”

What he remembers most is that the church members were steeped in the Bible, and mostly lived out its moral principles. “They didn’t wear their faith on their sleeve,” he said. “They lived a quiet life of faith and led by example.”

There was a time in Alabama when Sundays revolved around church, and Sunday dinner, sometimes on the church grounds.

Dinner on the grounds

Mary Ann Raley recalls attending Macedonia Baptist Church in Coates Bend, then heading from Gadsden to Collinsville to her grandparents’ house for Sunday dinner.

Brandi Baker Stacey said the family gathered at her grandparents’ house after church for dinner. “Most of us went to different churches, but we would all gather there afterwards,” she said. “No one could beat my Grandma Baker’s fried chicken.”

Lesley Smedley recalls that the tradition was too strong for college to end it.

“We did eat dinner after church,” Smedley said. “It was such a strong part of who we were that even when I went off to college my mom and I would meet halfway just to catch up and eat together.”

Her mother still attends the same church and sits in the same seat.

Emily Correll grew up attending the First United Methodist Church in Prattville. “We always ate Sunday dinner after church and often had my friends there as well,” she said.

Benita Fore grew up Baptist, attended Sunday School weekly and then the worship service, and then ready for lunch. “People looked at the preacher sideways if he went past 12,” she said.

‘Barely hanging on’

The Rev. John Killian, former pastor of Maytown Baptist Church in Sylvan Springs and former president of the Alabama Baptist Convention, has seen the heyday of the rural church slip away.

“That’s what I deal with all the time,” said Killian, now director of missions for Fayette County. “Some of them are barely hanging on. Some seem to be doing okay.”

Sometimes keeping rural churches alive requires tenacity, as in the case of Jefferson Methodist Church and Jefferson Baptist Church, in Marengo County.

“I grew up in a rural church family that is still active, and I’m happy to still be a part of it,” said Betsy Compton Luker of Jefferson in Marengo County. “There is a Baptist Church and a Methodist Church that alternate Sundays and have for most of the nearly 200 years they’ve been alive.”

The historic Methodist church was built in 1856, and the nearby Baptist church was built in 1860. To survive, they collaborate. They claim to have had the first rural Vacation Bible School in Alabama. The churches collaborate on a community barbecue that has been a tradition for more than 50 years.

“We feel that we are a part of something really special, with as many young people in the church as I’ve ever heard there has been,” Luker said.

‘Sense of purpose’

Killian recalls one church he worked with that was down to six people attending services and considered closing, but hung on and was able to revive itself with a new preacher who reached out to the community. “They said that If we can keep our doors open, something may happen, and it did,” he said.

Other small churches have seen their members drift away to attend megachurches that offer more amenities to their members, such as coffee shops and childcare.

“I just like to think that every church fills some kind of purpose,” Killian said. “I rejoice wherever Christ is preached.”

But when big churches take members from small churches, it may negatively impact the community, said Jonathan Bass, professor of history at Samford University.

“That’s a real loss for people in those areas,” Bass said. “If they have to drive 30 minutes to get to church, how well-connected are you to that community?”

The key to relevance for small churches seems to be making a personal and community connection, Killian said.

“They seem to see a sense of purpose in keeping going,” Killian said. “They say as long as they’re there, they’re a testimony to that community. If there’s a tragedy, if there’s a death in the family, people know they are there. When they need them, they know that preacher’s there, they know that church is there.”