A Legacy of Dirt and Grace

Sure, it felt like 120 degrees with 100 percent humidity, swarming lovebugs, and relentless Southeast Texas heat, but being part of FBC Beaumont’s groundbreaking ceremony was an incredible blessing. As I stood sweating on Sunday, August 23, 2026, holding a golden shovel, my mind drifted back through the deep roots of our history.

Years ago, I remember setting the first of countless archive boxes onto a dark, stained-wood table inside the Tyrrell Historical Library. Dr. Christopher Moody had charged me with piecing together the historical chronicle that would become A Beautiful Mountain—the history book of FBC Beaumont. Coming from a small Southern Baptist background, my understanding of denominational history didn’t extend much past Royal Ambassadors (RAs) and Girls in Action (GAs).

At the time, I didn’t fully grasp that I was standing inside what had once been FBC Beaumont’s own 1903 sanctuary, a Neo-Gothic, stained-glass marvel affectionately known in church lore as “the stone building.” 

Digging through those unorganized folders felt like sifting through Beaumont’s version of a time machine: from the Wild West to bowler hats that gave way to bell-bottoms. Sepia-toned photos of mud sleds pulled by donkeys yielded to steam trains, electric trolleys, and eventually Ford Model Ts lined up outside our Calder Avenue campus. I saw how farmers and loggers, once scraping by in clay-filled soil, were suddenly thrust into the wealth of the 1901 Lucas Gusher at Spindletop.

Yet amidst the wealth that briefly made Downtown Beaumont feel like a micro-New York, the real treasure was the character of its people. Sifting through those archives, I discovered a quiet, enduring faithfulness. I met women of faith like Mrs. French, who poured her fortune into helping poorer families and brought fresh garden roses when visiting the sick. I traced FBC Beaumont’s foundational fingerprints on Baptist Hospital, Baptist Disaster Relief, Baylor University, and Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. One photo stuck with me: several well-dressed men breaking ground on the Calder Campus

Nine years ago, I slipped through the side door of FBC Beaumont wounded, scared, and disconnected. But this congregation refused to let me stay that way. Your relentless kindness disarmed every argument, defied my cynicism, and reshaped my understanding of biblical ecclesiology. You showed me what it means to be the Church.

So as I turned that dirt, I thought about that sepia-colored old image of men who had long since gone to be with the Lord, each holding a shovel as they broke ground on a new worship center. It was then that I realized I wasn’t holding a shovel just for myself. I held it for the nursery volunteers, the AWANA listeners helping kids memorize Scripture, the worship team, and every generation that preceded us. We don’t live for fancy buildings or novelty—we live for the Lord. I’ve read the book of Revelation, so I know this physical structure will not last forever. But I also know there is a work far beyond red iron, concrete, and finishes that will last: the Word of God, the souls of men and women, and God Himself.