The LDS chapel located at 11951 Old Saint Augustine Road in Jacksonville, Florida hasn’t always had a steeple. For a good portion of time, it looked like any other plain building – ample parking in front and back, live oaks and bushes and a small amount of grass, and a terrifying, awful “lighting rod” right next to the double-door entrance. It’s hard to explain in hindsight, but it was about 50 feet tall (around the same as the flagpole out front) and was made of connected gray metal tubes. It was a bizarre contraption and to this day I never got a clear answer as to what this metal behemoth was right in front of the chapel where I spent most of my Sundays and Wednesday nights as a youth and Tuesday nights as a college kid. Despite the sign out front reading, “Visitors Welcome”, this substitute steeple probably did anything but. Was it a steeple? A lightning rod? A strange artifact from another dimension? The remnants of the previous owner from whom the Church purchased the land? I don’t think I’ll ever know.
Eventually, this metal monstrosity was removed, and an actual steeple was placed atop the meetinghouse. The steeple itself sat on a flatbed trailer in the back parking lot for at least a month until contractors could be found to place it on the building. Now the church I attended every Sunday actually looked like a church. It always felt like a church – paintings of Jesus, a “cultural hall” where activities were held, a chapel where Sunday services occurred, and various classrooms and offices. It is a simple building, fairly nondescript and set back from the roadway. But for me growing up and into adulthood, it felt like a sanctuary, a safe space I went on Wednesdays and Sundays to learn about the gospel and learn from the various role models I had.
The LDS chapel located at 11951 Old St. Augustine Road in Jacksonville, Florida has a second story with two additional classrooms. The A/C in them both is suspect, and it’s not the most enjoyable when multiple people are crammed in there for class or ward council. Their use is necessitated since 3 separate wards meet in this building. For the uninitiated, a ward is a geographical unit, where members within select boundaries attend church and serve together. The LDS clergy is a lay ministry, selected from the members with no payment or monetary compensation for their service. Ward council is a meeting that occurs every other week, where members of the various groups in the ward (adult women (Relief Society), adult men (Elders Quorum), children (Primary), youth (Young Men and Young Women), missionaries, and others) meet to discuss the needs of the ward members. It is often a sacred experience, where many issues can be solved and the needs of the members met by coordination between these groups.
However, class and ward council are not the only occurrences in these rooms. In 2007, I attended early morning seminary at the ward building. The layout of the ward building is fairly common among LDS chapels, and is essentially a large circle of classrooms and offices, with the chapel and cultural hall in the middle. At the rear of the circle, at one end of the cultural hall and above the bathrooms is the staircase leading to these two classrooms. Seminary took place in the Primary room, which was directly across the hall from the men’s bathroom.
In this class was one young man named Kurt. Kurt attended seminary but, like most of us, was only mildly engaged. No fault of the teacher’s – a religion class for high schoolers from 6:00 to 6:55 in the morning is not the most exciting event, nor is it something that everyone wants to attend. In any event, Kurt left class at around 6:30 to go to the bathroom. At least, that’s what we all assumed. However, Kurt had other plans. In fact, Kurt did not want to go to school that day, so he figured he would hide out in the classrooms above the bathroom so that he wouldn’t have to catch a ride or walk to school.
The only flaw in this plan (okay, there were actually many flaws) is that the closet that Kurt decided to hide himself in locked from the outside and had no inside ability to unlock. So, if one were to close the closet on themselves, they would be unable to simply turn the handle and exit. In effect, as soon as the latch clicked on the closet door with Kurt inside, he was trapped.
At the time, this closet was used as storage for the Cub Scout troop sponsored by the church. There was no shortage of pipe cleaners, papers, pencils, crayons, glue, and various other crafting and scouting accoutrements. 30 minutes passed, then an hour, then 2. Kurt realized at this point that no one was coming to rescue him, as everyone was in 2nd period at this point, slaving away at math or English or chemistry class. So, Kurt did what any reasonable 15 year old would do: he ascertained that he would run out of oxygen in this closet and asphyxiate, a corpse that wouldn’t be discovered until Wednesday or Sunday. At this point, having given up all hope, he scrounged around in the dark, found a blue crayon and a scrap of paper, and wrote a farewell letter in the dark, apologizing to his mom and asking for forgiveness, signed his name, and then settled into the dark and waited for the archangels to take him.
They never arrived.
After what I presume was only a couple minutes, Kurt realized that he was not in fact asphyxiating, that there was air coming through the bottom of the door between the wood and the carpet, and that he was only locked in a closet with drywall as the main construction material. And so, with a little bit of readjusting and ingenuity, Kurt kicked his way out through the drywall, dislodging the carpet on the wall and leaving gypsum dust and broken chunks of drywall on the floor, exited to the freedom of the outdoors, and started walking home.
At the time, my dad was serving as the bishop of our local ward. The bishop is sort of like a pastor, in that he is the leader for the ward and presides over most activities/events and Sunday services. On the Sunday following Kurt’s rebirth through the drywall of the upstairs classroom, my dad walked in to prepare the room for ward council only to find the remnants of his destructive exit and a singular scrap of copy paper with blue crayon scrawled on it.
Upon further investigation, and deciphering the text on the note, my dad was able to piece together the issue as retold above. So he moved ward council to the other room, contacted the Facilities Maintenance Group for the church to come and fix the damaged drywall, and pocketed the note.
The following Monday, after seminary was finished and my dad was about to take me and my brother to school, he pulled Kurt aside and showed him the note and presented his findings, asking if his reconstruction of the incident was correct. Kurt filled in a couple missing details, but for the most part sheepishly nodded and agreed.
Ultimately, no harm done, but we did learn not to lock oneself in a closet without first ensuring that you can exit the closet. My dad has said that he regrets not keeping the note, but he gave it to the bishop of the Mandarin 2nd Ward, the ward of which Kurt was a member. Kurt’s married now. I hope he’s doing well.
The LDS chapel located at 11951 Old St. Augustine Road in Jacksonville, Florida received an addition at the rear of the building to house the Institute of Religion in the year of 2010 or 2011. At the time, the Institute (a religion class for college students and young single adults between the ages of 18 and 35) was crammed into a small, rented space that couldn’t have been more than 400 square feet down the road from the chapel. The addition to the Mandarin ward building was a much needed expansion for the growing program.
When it was finally finished, the Institute director opened it up for our early morning seminary class to attend class instead of in the Primary room. There was considerably more space, a whiteboard, a projector and screen, and tables to allow for notetaking and holding scriptures. It was a nice change of pace that allowed all of us to spread out and not all be on top of one another.
As a person, I am very energetic. I was once called the “Energizer Bunny” playing sports because despite having played for long stretches of time, I seemed to always give 100%. I’ve learned to calm that down as I’ve grown older, and recognize when I’m running on fumes. Regardless, I have always been boisterous and loud and energetic, and seminary at 6 in the morning was no exception, despite what you might think. I tried to lighten the mood and make my friends happy in a religion class held before school.
At the time, our teacher, one Ben Warner, was longsuffering and incredibly patient with my random outbursts and excitable manner. He always brought knowledge and learning to the forefront of the lessons, and I can honestly say I learned more in his class about religion than I’ve learned in some actual college classes. He is a gifted teacher and an incredibly intelligent man.
Despite all of his attempts to foster a spiritual environment, those attempts were often thwarted by my admittedly immature actions.
One day, my dad as bishop asked Ben, “How’s seminary going?” Wanting to get a pulse on Ben’s feeling of the class and how he might be better supported, Ben replied, “Oh, it’s going well. Nate didn’t take his shirt off in class this week, so that’s a bonus.”
Yes dear reader, I admit to removing my shirt at 6 in the morning in a religion class with a bunch of other sleepy high schoolers. In my defense, I do not remember the context but I do know it was funny, and I waved my shirt above my head yelling “GOLAZO” like I had just scored the winning goal in extra time of a soccer match. Love me or hate me, I always made class interesting even on the most dreary of days.
The LDS chapel located at 11951 Old St. Augustine Road in Jacksonville, Florida had, for a very long time, a carpeted “basketball court”. The cultural hall, a multi-use room that sits directly behind the chapel and also functions as an overflow when there are more churchgoers than there are seats or pews in the chapel, was carpeted until 2025 when a wood floor was installed. The cultural hall also has two basketball hoops, able to be raised or lowered via a motor that has, to my knowledge, never been serviced or replaced, which is mildly concerning.
If you’ve never played basketball or seen basketball played, it’s a pretty active game filled with lots of running, jumping, and quick cuts and motion. Wood or rubber tile are some of the most common court types, along with concrete/pavement for outdoor courts. Carpet, notoriously, is one of the worst materials for a basketball court. The aforementioned materials allow for some give or movement for players who are pivoting or moving quickly, which prevents injuries such as torn knee ligaments, sprained ankles, and so on. Carpet, however, does not. Carpet does not give, and carpet certainly does not forgive. As someone who has torn both of his ACLs, I should know. The tearing of my left knee’s ACL occurred while playing basketball on this very same carpeted gym.
The cultural hall is a fascinating artifact of Mormon culture – it has varied uses, but is most often remembered for its function as a miniature basketball court. It is almost never regulation size, it has limited seating for any spectators, and is used as a reception area for weddings, room used for ward parties and events, and for various activities with the youth and children. Yet, its most popular use is, in my estimation, as a sporting arena. Indoor soccer, kickball, volleyball, basketball, football, and so many other games can be played in this room. It has witnessed injuries, blood, tears, spilled food, vomit, and so many other things, and through it all remains constant. “Just use the cultural hall at the ward” is a common refrain when asking where an event should take place.
The spotlights on the ceiling, ostensibly installed for use in any sort of stage production, slowly came down over the years due to an errant volleyball, basketball, or other sporting equipment. The carpet that would often get torn up would be patched and replaced, and was eventually replaced with wood for easier cleanup and care.
Anyone visiting this chapel would not be amazed at any ostentatious display of wealth – there are dings and scratches in paint, burnt out lightbulbs, damaged upholstery, hymnals that are falling apart, sound systems that are fickle and prone to failure. However, the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints all do their best to make the ward building a place of community and belonging. The sign out front displays a simple invitation: Visitors Welcome.
The LDS chapel located at 11951 Old St. Augustine Road in Jacksonville, Florida is not perfect, nor will it ever be. The members who attend church there are certainly not perfect, and I hope they never claim to be. But the experiences, events, and fellowship I have experienced in this building certainly are.
Nate Livsey 