The Battle of the Corner Churches: A Palmetto State Legend

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

—Philippians 2:3–4 (NIV)

The Legend As We Know It

In the heart of South Carolina, a tale has persisted across the generations, a story that whispers through the palms and echoes off the church steeples. Known as the 'Battle of the Corner Churches,' this local legend sparks curiosity and intrigue from the Upstate, through Lake Country (Midlands) and the Pee Dee, all the way to the Lowcountry.

It is said to have begun in a small town called Olar, but in our opinion, the true origins could very well lie in any number of quaint locales across the Palmetto State. For those unfamiliar with this captivating narrative, consider this your invitation to investigate the lore that surrounds these historic places of worship.

Competitive People In A Peaceful Place

Drive through almost any South Carolina town on a Sunday morning, and you’ll notice a peculiar pattern. On one corner there’s a Baptist church, right across the street there’s a Methodist church, and if you keep driving another block, you’ll find a Pentecostal place ready to wave you in with a big smile and a tambourine. It’s less a neighborhood and more like the SEC of Sunday mornings—everybody’s got their own team colors, mascots, and loyal fans.

One of our favorite small towns is Olar. And Olar is no exception. These churches don’t come right out and admit they’re competing. Oh no, they’ll say things like, “Brother, we’re all working for the Kingdom.” But just watch the signs out front, and you’ll see a different story being told.

• One week the Baptist sign declares:
  “Wednesday Night Supper – Fried Chicken $8.00”

• The very next week, the Pentecostal church has a sign with an updated price:
  “Wednesday Night Supper – Fried Chicken $7.99 (Includes Tea!)”

And suddenly, we find ourselves in the middle of a “Holy Price War.”

The Pastors’ Role

To be sure, the pastors keep it polite when these kinds of spiritual conflicts erupt. They shake hands at Rotary Club breakfasts, and they wave cheerfully at one another at the Neeses Piggly Wiggly. But don’t let that fool you. Somewhere, somebody is counting how many cars are parked in which lot on Wednesday nights. Wednesdays are challenging days to be a faithful Evangelical Protestant.

The Church Ladies Rule

And the church ladies? Lord, for the love of Jesus! Don’t ever underestimate church ladies. They’re the true generals in this campaign.

It’s like all-out, spiritual warfare for these dear ladies. They’ve got casserole dishes for armor, pound cakes for ammunition, and coleslaw recipes as suppressive fire when the going gets tough. By Thursday morning, every quilting circle in town already knows exactly who had the bigger crowd, whether the cornbread was too dry, and if the banana (nanner) pudding had “set up right.”

By the way, It’s not easy to make perfect Nanner Pudding the way Mother Martha used to make it! No sir, it’s not!

But then, It’s all good-natured fun, of course. Nobody’s out there throwing hymnals across the street at each other the way leftist loonies protest MAGA (Making America Great Again) these days. But the rivalry does run deep. For some folks, the memory of who had the better fried chicken in 1987 is still as fresh as yesterday’s sermon. And surely, some day, they will establish a Fried Chicken Hall of Fame. Who knows, they might even put it smack-dab right in the center of downtown Olar, South Carolina.

A New Jerusalem

Now here’s the thing: imagine if all these suppers were combined into one giant meal. Baptists, Methodists, Pentecostals, Presbyterians—all under one roof with folding chairs lined up and buffet tables groaning under the weight of fried chicken, macaroni pie, collard greens, and enough nanner pudding to keep the peace. We wouldn’t just solve the great church rivalry; we might even solve half the other problems that plague the Palmetto State too.

If this ever did happen, politicians would drop their arguments, neighbors would quit their fussing, and folks would find common ground—probably somewhere near the dessert table. Because down there in Olar (if that’s really where the Battle of the Corner Churches got started), diplomacy doesn’t happen in marble halls or smoke-filled rooms. It happens in fellowship halls where sweet tea is still served and paper plates and Styrofoam cups are stacked high near the door where you enter.

Our Story

So the next time you find yourself driving past two churches on opposite corners, don’t see it as competition. Think of it as South Carolina’s version of a grand, peace summit. The only rule? Don’t run out of fried chicken before the benediction. And be careful not to speed past the Olar Police Department too. Just because they have a small police station, it doesn’t mean Olar is soft on crime!

That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it! What’s your story going to be?

Vivat Jesus!