Cowboy church in West Texas welcomes all
BRONTE, Texas— Just after sunset on a chilly December night, a stranger rides into town.
The Dallas Morning News reports Jerry Andrews coaxes his bay gelding, Speck, to a left turn at the only stoplight and down Main Street toward the old Texas Theater.
He has been riding for days from his home in southwest Oklahoma to San Angelo, nearly 300 miles, because God told him to deliver a Christmas gift to a friend in need. It would have been quicker to take a bus, but Andrews had no one to take care of Speck. Instead, he decided to make the journey on horseback.
Now, just starting his long trek back home, Andrews decides to stop at the only cowboy church in Coke County.
It was Saturday night, when the faded downtown would normally be empty, but there’s a crowd at the old theater when he arrives. It’s Christmastime, and the congregation has spent all day as a centerpiece of a community celebration.
Folks there have heard a lone rider might be arriving, and they welcome Andrews as he swings a leg over the large green duffel bag on Speck’s back.
The preacher asks Andrews if he’s tired, if he needs a place to stay. “I’m past tired,” he says. Caring for the weak and weary is part of the Christmas message at any congregation, but here at the Coke County Cowboy Church, it is regularly put into practice. Members gather donations and cook meals for hungry families on holidays, and they actively evangelize to neighbors with personal stories of jail time, poverty and addiction.
In rural West Texas, hard times are easy to come by. Pastor James Brunson has been there, and it’s why he prayed to bring this kind of church to his hometown.
He just never expected to lead it.
Fifty miles southwest of Abilene, Bronte (pronounced BRONT) sits in the Concho Valley surrounded by rough ranch land. Just 3,300 people live in the whole of Coke County, fewer than a thousand of them here in Bronte.
While there are seven other places to worship in town— two Baptist congregations, the First United Methodist Church, the Bronte Church of Christ, St. James Catholic Church, a biker church and a Spanish-language congregation—Brunson says his cowboy church is growing.
Across Texas and the Western states, in communities where traditional churches sometimes struggle to survive, cowboy churches have become increasingly popular. They market their services as a no-frills alternative to traditional churches.
There’s no passing of an offering plate here, no altar calls to potentially embarrass newcomers. Brunson doesn’t preach in religious robes or a suit, but in jeans, boots and a black cowboy hat.
“Lots of churches, if you show up with cow crap on your boots, they won’t let you in the door,” said Tony Blackstock, a regular at the Coke County Cowboy Church. “This place is ‘come as you are.’”
Although cowboy churches often operate independently from a formal denominational structure, the Baptist General Convention of Texas has helped start as many as 200 in the state.
Jason Bryant is the Western heritage consultant for Texas Baptists and helps advise communities that want to start a cowboy church. He said in some cases, new cowboy churches grow bigger and faster than the traditional First Baptist congregations in town.
“It’s not about competition,” Bryant said. “In Texas, the population of unchurched people tends to grow faster than the population of people who regularly attend church. Cowboy church is one way to reach those people.”
While the aesthetic of these congregations is decidedly Western, Bryant said that 75 to 80 percent of regular cowboy church attendees have no experience riding horses or working cattle. The “cowboy” part is important to a cowboy church’s success, but the appeal goes beyond the rodeo arena.
“We try to reach cowboys, but there are a lot of cowboys-at-heart. They drive pickup trucks and like country music,” Bryant said. “Cowboy church has been about a back-to-the-basics type movement, and that’s why God has honored it.”
Brunson says that growing up in Bronte, few would have pegged him for a preacher.
He admits he was a troublemaker and says “the sheriff and I had a little rivalry.” He’d toss plastic bags full of manure on squad cars, drag race downtown and trespass onto the tall water tower with “BRONTE” painted in big black letters.
“The bottom line is, I was so wild in this town,” he said, “to come back here and start a church with the colorful past I have was a real challenge.”
He didn’t slow down as he got older, and was arrested on numerous misdemeanor charges for traffic violations, theft and tampering with a government record when he was pulled over in a friend’s truck with improper registration.
In 2004, he was arrested on a drug possession charge and took a plea deal with 11 months time served in the Williamson County jail.
“Everybody who comes to my church knows I went to jail. I don’t hide it,” said Brunson, who turned 61 on Dec. 26. “I tell everybody, it’s not about our past, it’s about our future.”
Brunson says he was saved in 1987 and started regularly attending church services. He even led a prison ministry while in jail, he said, and continues that work from the outside today.
In 2012, he moved home and began attending Bluff Creek Cowboy Church, 30 miles from Bronte. He prayed for the community he called “spiritually dry.” He wanted to bring a cowboy church to the Texas Theater, which sat vacant for years.
The owner offered to rent the old theater as a worship space, and Brunson worked with a group at Bluff Creek to start the Coke County Cowboy Church. They wanted to focus on youth ministry, preach about strong marriages and reach out to people struggling with addiction.
At the forefront, however, would be the cowboy cul-
ture that defines these churches. They’d aim to reach working cowboys and use rodeo events at a nearby arena to engage young people. They’d use a portable pen to host goat roping and mutton busting events for kids, while organizing roping competitions for older cowboys.
It started with five people getting together on Sundays to pray. An interim pastor stayed for six months, and Brunson took the reins when no one else stepped up.
That was three years ago. Today, the church often brings in 60 or more worshippers every Sunday. Many are first-time guests. Even the regulars are often people who haven’t been to church in years.
“We’re all here to help each other and lift each other on a daily basis,” said Joyce Hambright, the church’s secretary. “You walk through that door and you’re family.”
It’s the acknowledgment of that imperfect community, scars and all, that many of the worshippers at the Coke County Cowboy Church say sets their congregation apart. It’s what brings them back.
“Everyone here realizes they messed up in their lives, where other churches try to hide it,” said Wayne Rhodes. “That’s why we come here, to try to get better.”
On Sunday morning at the old theater, the congregation sings modern worship songs and bluegrass standards. Brunson and other church leaders use Western language to describe the trappings of a traditional church. The new youth center is called the Feedlot. The list of prayer requests is called the Prayer Rope. New members are invited “to sign up and ride with us.”
Brunson delivers a Christmas sermon. He reads from Luke and reminds the congregation that “Jesus is the reason for the season.”
After the service, Brunson stands at the church’s front door, shaking hands and giving out hugs as his congregation heads back into the cold.
But at the front of the theater, Andrews—the stranger who arrived on horseback the night before—kneels in prayer. Men in the congregation took Speck, his horse, to the church’s rodeo arena and gave him feed. Andrews slept in a big comfy bed at the home of one of the church members before getting up early for the church service.
At the altar, he asks God for guidance on what to do next.
Andrews needs to earn some more money before heading back out, and Speck needs rest. He’s been offered a place to stay. Brunson even offered to make calls to a few local ranchers about getting him some work.
God opens doors, he says, and closes others. It’s up to Andrews to listen and follow his will.
The air is crisp and the sun is shining the morning he decides to leave. Three of the Coke County Cowboy Church members gather around, rest a hand on him and bow their heads in prayer.
“We don’t know where our journey ends,” says Cody McClure, one of the original five members of the cowboy church, “but we pray for your safety, a hedge of angels, God’s armor.”
After saddling Speck, the stranger heads back down Main Street and guides the bay gelding out of town, his duffel bag heavy with cans of food, clothes and blessings from the cowboy church.