Deokso Presbyterian Church

Since Audrey Lim resides in the Deokso (first syllable pronounced as “duck”) district of Seoul, I had been there numerous times. And whenever I disembarked from the red 1700 bus or came out of Deokso Subway Station, I would turn to my left and gaze at a tall and stately red-brick church. Sitting up on a hill, it had a series of arched windows and two crenelated towers; from the bigger one rose a steeple. At the back, I took note of a large outdented cross made of the same red bricks. How pleasing it is to live in Korea where believers actually believe rather than in England, where some left-wing C of E preachers advocate doing away with the cross because “it carries too much cultural baggage.”

This place intrigued me. I went there yesterday morning to join with fellow Christians, members of Deokso Presbyterian Church. As soon as I began my approach from the east, however, I realized something was amiss. The parking lot held but two cars, the place seemed to be trashed out, and there was a sign on the locked doors.

Disheartened and puzzled, I began a slow circumambulation of the church. A blue, metal bell tower—also topped by a cross—stood to the right. On the north side were a pair of annexes that could not be called architectural masterpieces. Had they perhaps been used for Sunday school classrooms? Crowding the church from the west and south sides was a motley assortment of homes and former homes, separated by narrow paths. They refute the notion some of my American friends have of Korea as being so orderly, and spic and span.

Back to the front I came and imagined all that had gone on there in years past: the Christmases, the Easters, the weddings, the funerals and the ordinary Sunday services. This had probably been a center of the Deokso community as much as a church, open 365 days a year and alive with activity. I returned to the bus stop, expecting to go home. In fact, the 1700 bus was about to pull up. First, though, I called Audrey. She knew of the church and what had happened, since some of her friends were members. It had closed, as I had already discerned, and moved a few miles up the road. If I could wait 10 minutes, she would be there in her blue Volkswagen and we could go to the new iteration of Deokso Presbyterian Church.

We soon arrived, and it was quite apparent that they had done a major upgrade. To our left was the church per se, and to our right was the “Vision Center.” It was just before noon, so we hurried to catch the last of the service. Audrey and I sat toward the back on the first floor of the nave. If this was typical attendance, the church is doing well—empty seats were few. The pastor said a closing benediction, the choir sang a song, and the faithful started to file out. Yes, I drew some attention as the odd foreigner. Since Audrey knew my interest and is not shy, she was soon conversing with some ladies in the foyer. And that led to our meeting with Kangwoo Noh, one of the church’s elders. After doffing his white robe, he invited us to have a meal in the third-floor cafeteria followed by more chatting in the adjacent coffee shop.

Mr. Noh, who teaches English at a local high school and has a master’s degree from the University of Tennessee, was very helpful. He told us about the painful decision to leave the old church and move less than a year ago.

“This church has about 1,000 members,” he said. “It was established in 1938, during the Japanese colonial era, but the building you saw was built in 1983. There were two before it, in the same spot. The first was very small, the second was bigger, and then that one. I have belonged to Deokso Presbyterian Church since 2001, and I can remember how people felt about the old building. They had sentimental, emotional feelings, but there were other factors. For example, it was central and just across the street from Deokso Subway Station. The church was well built, but it was outdated and the parking lot was too small. As elders, we listened carefully to all the laypeople and finally decided that we had to move. That was in July 2022. The old building will soon be demolished, and a high-rise apartment complex will go up.”

Only when Audrey was driving me back to the bus stop did she remind me that I had been at Deokso Presbyterian Church once before. Approximately five years earlier, they were holding a garage sale on the front steps and we took part. I had just the vaguest memory of having done so.

As I rode the bus back to Gangnam, I ruminated about this 85-year-old church. I, of course, am in no position to say they were “wrong” to have desacralized and vacated the old place. Granted, it was neither modern nor shiny and the annexes had a jerry-rigged look to them. But it exuded roots and authenticity. The new one, for all its beauty, sure doesn’t have a bell tower out front.

Deokso Presbyterian Church coffee shop; Audrey at bottom…