BLACK HISTORY: Oldest black congregation joins hands

EDITOR'S NOTE: This is the first of a four-part series recognizing Black History Month. The series will continue through Wednesday.

Greater St. John Baptist Church rests on Muskinghum Avenue, just a few yards south of the railroad tracks. It's a small, unassuming building.

But when the people come to worship, the church gathers them in and holds them together in a celebration of God's love, then releases them to their everyday lives with a renewed spirit.

Such has been the mission of the church for years.

Greater St. John, the oldest black congregation in Odessa, was founded July 1, 1928, by the Rev. C. Nelson of McCamey.

According to St. John's written history, the church was led by a series of pastors and had a slow beginning, with only 12 members listed on its rolls in 1940.

That same year, however, a new pastor, the Rev. L. H. Hall, came to lead the church. And he, said church member Lula Washington, was a man with a vision.

"The words he lived by are from Proverbs 29:18-- Where there is no vision, the people perish,' " Washington said. "He was a leader."

In a time and place where segregation was a fact of life, Hall reached out to build a congregation that was a community with a sense of responsibility for its neighbors.

"He and his wife had no children, but he raised all our children, and we called him Father Hall," Washington said. He was a living monument in the community. His message was wherever you find a need, go minister to it. And there was a dire need."

Washington, who has been a member of Greater St. John since 1958, said the church is in an area that was once called "the flats." People lived in pasteboard boxes, and the area wasn't safe, she said.

"Hall was an educator, and he knew that education takes care of a lot of things. He encouraged people to send their children to school, and the first schools here (for blacks) were in the churches," Washington said.

Vertie Stevenson has been a member of Greater St. John since she moved to Odessa in 1939. She is 80 years old and still sings in the church choir.

She said she remembers her preacher tending to the sick.

"The doctors didn't come out to where we were," Stevenson said, "so Rev. Hall took care of us. I remember he had a grip (large bag) packed with Epsom salts, castor oil and Black Draw."

Black Draw looked like straw, Stevenson said, and it was administered for colds and coughs. It was boiled in water, then the water was given to the sick to drink, she said.

Hall also served as a respected go-between across the invisible color line that separated blacks and whites, Stevenson said.

"If someone desperately needed a doctor, he would go look for one. The police would call him if there was a black man in jail. All the police and the people in the courthouse respected him," she said.

Under Rev. Hall's leadership, a spiritual community began to grow.

Gladys Penney moved to Odessa in 1939 and was a member of St. James Baptist Church then, but she had great respect for Hall.

"I admired him because he was just a real lovely man," she said. "He ministered to saints and sinners of all denominations. He was a very spiritual man who tried to get all the (black) churches to work together. "

Penney said many blacks in Odessa who worked "in town" lived in servants' quarters over garages. The church, she said, was a way to bring all blacks together on Sundays in a communal gathering.

And when the people gathered together, Hall told them about his vision of a community, Washington said.

"He said all men were created equal regardless of where we lived. He revealed that what God would do for one, he'd do for another," she said.

Stevenson said Hall often preached in bars, spreading his vision to everyone in the black community.

"And he got respect from those people. We all got respect. Rev. Hall was the best. People would come from far and near to hear him preach," she said.

The Rev. Hall died in 1987, but Stevenson said his vision and spirit linger in the church.

"It's been a good and loving church-- what a church is supposed to be-- and we've always had good pastors," she said.

The Rev. E. J. Miller now pastors Greater St. John, the church he attended as a child.

A community

Greater St. John has had a few facelifts and changes during the years, but it's still very much a community.

Women with powerful voices sing "I don't know what you came to do; I've come to praise His name."

A teen-aged boy plays drums. The piano is silent, but Mary Ellis is in complete command of an electric keyboard.

Members of the choir, including 80-year-old Vertie Stevenson, sway to the music. Their songs remind the congregation to be thankful "God put food on your table and showed up when your bills were due."

The service is a joyous celebration, and everyone is there to participate.

Hands are held in prayer. During a time of fellowship, everyone is greeted with a smile and a hug or a handshake.

"Good morning" and "God bless you" is said over and over. But it's always heartfelt, and it lasts as long as it needs to last because it's a time to connect with friends and wish them well.

And all have arrived at this place dressed in their Sunday best.

Many of the women in the congregation wear hats that match their dresses. Boys and men wear crisply pressed white shirts and dark suits.

The Rev. Larry Williams, the visiting preacher, tells the congregation that he was taught to stand tall, speak clearly and sit quickly.

"That I will do," he said, then asking his listeners to "close your eyes, open your mind, and let me give you a clean page."

And the message he delivers is very much the same message that this congregation heard from the Rev. Hall: "Church, you've got to go out that door."

The preacher reminds his listeners "the greatest wrong we can do is nothing. Everything in this (Bible) says love thy neighbor as thyself. You've got to get out of those seats and go out and show mercy. Each one of us can show mercy by showing love to each other. Give to the Lord, and the Lord will give it back to you."

After thanking his hosts, Miller told his congregation, "Having a bad attitude is like having a flat tire. If you don't change it, you won't get very far."

Then, after singing "Reach Out and Touch Someone's Hand," the congregation disperses, filled with a message to carry out the church doors.

After the service, the Rev. William Bradford, who was visiting Greater St. John from Grandview, Texas, said, "The church always was and always will be a place of hope and leadership. This is the place we recover our strength. We join together and remember that the Lord is a present help in times of trouble."

Vertie Stevenson said she can still feel Hall's spirit when she walks into the church.

"Every Sunday is like this," she said with a huge smile. "I just love it."