THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 5, 1995 TAG: 9511030080
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY ESTHER DISKIN, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 147 lines
JANE BEIL and a group of volunteers spent the evening of Oct. 1, 1970, painting the basement of First Baptist Church of Norfolk to spruce it up for pre-school religious classes.
Hours later, in the early morning darkness, the preschool teacher wept with other congregants as fire gutted the Gothic church at the corner of Westover and Moran avenues. The imposing building had been the center of her spiritual and social life since 1930, when the congregation marked her birth by writing her name in its ``cradle roll.''
``It was terrible,'' Biel says of that night. ``Everyone felt . . . you know, how can you describe the sense of loss? It was like a home.''
Biel was among a group of dedicated congregants who met, like nomads, for four years in schools and churches around Norfolk, until they could rebuild their spiritual home at its current place on Kempsville Road.
In 190 years of its history, First Baptist Church of Norfolk has moved four times. Now, as as the church faces the prospect of spiraling growth into the 21st century, it is pulling up roots again. This move will take the 5,000-member church out of its home city into the booming, suburban landscape of Chesapeake's Greenbrier.
The success of this move will depend on the dedication of the congregation and the sacrifices of volunteers, said the Rev. Robert Reccord, the church's senior pastor.
``In the church of the '90s and the 21st century, volunteers have to play a role,'' he said. ``The churches that get in trouble are the churches where pastors do it all.''
The power of volunteers was evident at the church's 190-year anniversary last Sunday morning, when 3,400 people sat, shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee, in a tent erected on the church's new site in Greenbrier.
Volunteers manned the parking lot and drove shuttle buses. They handed out programs and ushered people to their seats. They helped out with security and first aid. There were more than 200, not counting many who had worked to get ready for the event.
The church has a simple approach: Everyone has something to contribute and it's the church's job to help them find out what it is.
``They don't have to be on the church staff in order to minister,'' said Gail Motley, a staff member who is in charge of organizing their activity. ``What we try to do is help everyone see that, so they serve out of their giftedness and with joy.''
Reccord puts it more succinctly: ``It is not an option to sit and soak.''
In the church's long history, every relocation has posed a challenge to the congregation's solidarity and commitment, Reccord said. ``Each of the times we moved, we came to a crisis point.''
But he's not afraid to up the ante on an already risky venture. As thousands sat under the big tent last Sunday, Reccord threw a challenge at them: For every million dollars raised to build their new church - which may include finer touches like sports facilities and a grand lobby lit by skylights - he wants $25,000 set aside to help start churches around the world.
``If God is going to allow us to build here, it is incumbent upon us to build other places in the world where people are less fortunate,'' he told them.
He called upon the congregation to commit their families, finances and themselves to serve the church and God. ``What are we willing to sacrifice?'' he demanded. ``What are we going to do for the future?''
One thing seems clear about the church's future: It's going to get bigger. Church officials estimate growth at a rate of 10 percent a year for the rest of the decade, based on recent patterns.
And if current trends continue, it seems likely that most new members will be white. The church arose in 1805 largely through the energetic preaching of a free black man, Jack Bishop, but it split along racial lines in 1817 and has remained a heavily white congregation ever since. None of the church's 11 ordained pastors is African-American.
Yet Reccord lists racial healing as one of the church's goals. ``If there were unlimited resources, I'd add people of color to the staff immediately,'' he says, noting that he is not only speaking of African-Americans, but also Asians and Hispanics. The church has started a men's group modeled on Promise Keepers, the national Christian men's movement that has made racial healing one of its priorities.
As First Baptist plans for a new worship center that will likely double its space, it faces the challenge of its own hugeness: How can it maintain intimacy in a church family that counts members in the thousands?
It's clear that a strong volunteer commitment from church members is a key part of creating a homey atmosphere, along with small Bible study classes that serve as a counterpoint to the massive worship services.
``When I first saw the church, I thought, How can I go to a church this large? I'll get lost in the maze,'' exclaims 42-year-old Larry Culpeper, who joined the church with his wife about 11 years ago.
Now, he's found his calling making sure others don't have the same reaction. As leader of the ``parking ministry,'' it's his job to make sure people don't get lost or frustrated on the way from the parking lot to the church door.
At First Baptist, which overflows its own parking and runs shuttle buses from satellite lots, the task requires the work of 10 volunteers - each with the combined skills of traffic cop, valet and doorman.
``We want to avoid having people be overwhelmed by all the hubbub,'' Culpeper said. ``Let them feel welcome and give them a big smile. It may sound corny . . . but we are key to their first impression of the church.''
Even lifetime members develop strategies for coping with a jumbo congregation.
In 65 years as a church member, Jane Beil has seen membership fluctuate from several hundred - during the period when the congregation struggled to recover from the 1970 fire - to its current boom of several thousand. She aims to meet about 30 new people every year.
And when folks, like the Rev. Tommy Teague, don't immediately catch on to her name, she just introduces herself again . . . and again . . . and again. ``I was bound and determined that he would know who I was,'' she said. ``The more I say it, the funnier it is, and the more they get to know who you are.''
Beil is well known to the church's youngsters. She passes on Baptist teaching through the church's preschool program, where she sings songs, tells stories and directs art projects about God's love.
As a volunteer, she's more of a worker bee than a leader or teacher. ``I'm a Martha,'' she says, recalling the biblical figure who prepared a meal for Jesus, while Mary sat as his feet and listened to his teaching.
Every morning, Beil recites a prayer - clipped out years ago from a magazine - with lines that capture her approach to serving the church: ``Father, help me be the kind of worker Thou canst use in tasks of the humblest kind. For Father, though I've Martha's hands, I desire Mary's mind.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
CHRISTOPHER REDDICK/The Virginian-Pilot
Don Smith of Virginia Beach raises his hand in prayer during First
Baptist's 190th anniversary celebration, held last week at the
church's future site in Chesapeake (below).
Graphic
HISTORICAL HIGHLIGHTS
[For complete graphic, please see microfilm]
Photos
CHRISTOPHER REDDICK/The Virginian-Pilot
Above: Cecilia Warren, and her children Sydney, 4, left, and Justin,
6, pray during the 190th anniversary celebration. Right: Choir
members sing beneath the tent at the church's future site.
LAWRENCE JACKSON/The Virginian-Pilot
Jane Beil recalls the night in 1970 when First Baptist burned. ``It
was terrible,'' she says. ``It was like a home.''
by CNB