The original church was log, built in 1828 and serviced by a circuit-riding preacher who took care of seven or eight other congregations as well.
A school was located near the church and a little rural community flourished around it until the Civil War when it was abandoned for lack of members.
The church reopened in 1878 and went through several faith identities in the next 100 years, including Baptist, Presbyterian, and finally Pentecostal Holiness.
In 1941 the current building replaced the old and services continued into the 1970s.
All of the interior furnishings and the floor have fallen through to the ground below and someone has placed a fading bouquet of plastic flowers on the window sill.
A single jessamine vine leans against an exterior wall, a brave touch of cheerful yellow in the spring.
The Halfway Creek Church would have been the site of milestone events in the lives of its members over the years, their most important, life-altering occasions — the weddings and christenings, the baptisms and funerals.
All are long forgotten now. Like so many churches of the rural South, this one’s history isn’t important anymore, not even to the descendants of those who lived and died nearby. I could find almost no information about it whatsoever.
No one left to care for it, it slowly is returning to the Earth, like the bones in its graveyard nearby.