Fate of the faithful: Religion's declining influence forces N.C. spiritual leaders to rethink their institutions' roles.

• Author: Martin, Edward

The 18 pews at Parker's Grove United Methodist Church were warmed by longtime member Kenneth Brantley, and before him, his parents and grandparents. With the sun streaming through the sanctuary windows, the seats have a brown patina burnished by generations of worshippers. Church organizers in the 1870s raised $650 to build this white, weatherboard house of prayer about 20 miles north of Fayetteville on an acre provided by Cader Parker.

For decades, through both good times and the Great Depression, the church served mostly farm and sawmill hands. By 1964, Parker's Grove had a record 168 members, including a young Brantley, who recalls squirming through preaching and Sunday school. "This," he says, "is where we learned the scriptures." Then his friends grew up and left, and his family grew old and, one by one, moved a stone's throw to the graveyard across the narrow country road.

Four years ago, the Rev. Don Mitchell stood here. Worshippers came lugging fried chicken and potato salad for lunch after Mitchell's message declaring the church's closure. "All things have a season, the Bible has taught us. A season of growth and vitality and living out God's will to the fullest in our lives," he preached. "But there's a point where we have to pass on these gifts and graces to the next generation."

Brantley, one of eight remaining members, stifles tears as he recalls that day. "I was born and raised here, and this had been my only church," he says. "I never thought I'd be the one closing the doors."

Parker's Grove is the tip of an iceberg as North Carolina's religious world undergoes unprecedented transition. It's not just isolated rural parishes: Charlotte's Selwyn United Methodist Church, in the heart of the affluent Myers Park neighborhood, held its last official service on Feb. 2. Plans call for the church property to be redeveloped for residences as Selwyn merges with another congregation a mile away.

"Over the next 20 years, I think probably 25% of the churches in North Carolina will close their doors or replant as very different congregations," says John Butler, director of business services of the Baptist State Convention of North Carolina. New generations are opting for a spirituality distinct from the small, close-knit congregations that have played a vital role in the state since its inception.

The secular implications of religion's changing face are profound because of the sector's largely unnoticed $13 billion annual economic impact in the state, says Brian Grim, president of the nonprofit Religious Freedom & Business Foundation based in Annapolis, Md. Many N.C. church leaders contend Grim's estimate is understated.

Theologians, demographers, economists, church leaders and others say the change touches all Tar Fleels, even the half--or roughly 5.2 million--who never darken a church door. Religious institutions provide billions in services that would otherwise be footed mostly by taxpayers.

While each dying church has its own story, the collective impact is immense because they serve as anchor institutions in most communities, says the Rev. Rob Webb III, who heads The Duke Endowment's rural church program. The Methodist-linked foundation has awarded more than $3.7 billion to churches, hospitals, colleges and other groups since it was organized by business magnate J.B. Duke in 1924.

At least 50 North Carolina houses of worship are closed and for sale. Parker's Grove is asking $180,000, while a similar church in Crumpler in the far northwest mountains of Ashe County is on the block for $105,000. In Winston-Salem, there's a $5.3 million listing for a modern design with an austere cross dominating its front facade. A classic brick with imposing white columns and a steeple is on the market for $2.5 million in west Charlotte.

The real count of abandoned churches is likely several times higher...