Just like nothing (else) on earth: Austin Grove United Methodist Church

By Tim Jon 

The place appeared to be sleeping, the last time I visited. And that was fine, as I’d driven from my home in Leesburg that morning – coming up through the Town of Middleburg and then on a series of unpaved roads – passing through the small community of Bloomfield on the way. You see, Austin Grove United Methodist Church technically lies within the historic jurisdiction of Bluemont – which is centered even further to the west, literally at the side of the Blue Ridge Mountains. 

If you’ve lived here for awhile, you get to know the territory. I had delivered mail to this address for a couple of years, off-and-on, prior to procuring my ‘own route’ based in and around Purcellville (hey, Faulkner wrote primarily about one rural county, so can I). 

The stops along Route 739 – Austin Grove Road – always seemed to lie several miles beyond the end of the earth – this portion of the delivery following assignments on the heights of the Blue Ridge, and then more down in the valleys of either side. 

By the time I reached the little stone Church, I usually felt as if I’d been held upside down, shaken vigorously, and then thrown into a clothes dryer for a full cycle. If you’ve never had the pleasure of operating a Postal delivery truck, just imagine the most aggressive amusement park ride over a four-hour period. So, I was always happy to see this historic house of worship, as if waiting to offer comfort, out in these hinterlands. 

After delivering the church mail, you’d retrace your way back down Austin Grove Road, hitting Ridgeside Road, Trappe Road, Greengarden – yikes, the list continues so far we don’t have time to go the whole way. Suffice it to say: this was a pleasant little oasis amidst the day’s assignment of 60-odd miles. Sometimes very odd. 

But those days are past, and I now needed to travel to this spot on my own time, most recently on a pleasant Sunday morning. I’m not sure if services were planned for later in the day, but I seemed to have the grounds entirely to myself, for an easy stroll around the building to gather some images for part of the story. 

As I completed my tour and returned to the western side of the structure, I noticed the lighting effects of the sun’s rays peeking through the opposite side, and visible from my position. It didn’t take much imagination to conjure up the thought that the church sanctuary was lit from within. 

The colors. to one who’s partially colorblind, I know, appeared to contain hues of yellow and orange, and evidently sprang from undiscernible objects on the inside. You see, all the times I’d driven within several yards of the building itself, in all types of weather and lighting conditions, I’d never enjoyed this trick of lighting. It wasn’t until I made a deliberate visit to the historic facility that I noticed the phenomenon – no doubt produced by the angle of the sun, the placement of the church windows and the items inside producing the amber-like glow. 

Now, the Austin Grove United Methodist Church enjoys quite a history on its own, and certainly doesn’t need my little tale of enlightenment. The stone portion of the structure dates back to 1911 – built by the sons and grandsons of former slaves. The name itself comes from an early pastor in the Church’s timeline, and the congregation maintained a school on the site from the early 1870’s – just after the Civil War – until around 1940. 

I’m told that the Preservation Foundation for the Church currently maintains a lease on the property, with hopes of a future purchase, and permanent protection. Oh, and the congregation continues worship services a couple of Sundays each month, with everyone welcome to attend. 

And so – it was quite late in life for me to discover this historic, little place of the Spirit. It was even later for me to chance upon the source of light ‘from within,’ but it appears that the congregation has been in on the secret for quite some time, indeed. I said at the beginning of the story that the place seemed to be sleeping; perhaps, but very much alive.