A high school teacher shot up the First Baptist Church in the East Texas steel town of Daingerfield, and the agony lasted longer than anyone could have imagined.
Side by side near a Texas river are dinosaur tracks and what appear to be the marks of a human foot—proof, in the creationist mind, that evolution is bunk.
A host of Pentecostals gathered in Dallas to hug, kiss, sing, babble, and get the chewing-out of their lives.
The power and charm of the Reverend Charles Allen go beyond his own church, First United Methodist of Houston. Simple, standard churches like First Presbyterian in Brownsville are the solid rock of American religion.
Ninety-four per cent of Americans believe in God. That and other gleanings from recent polls reveal that the nation’s faith is stronger than ever.
Albert Cleage, the self-styled holy patriarch of an ambitious sect, has already won over blacks in Detroit and Atlanta. Now he’s set his sights on Houston.
El Paso’s Ysleta Mission, the oldest church in Texas, is also one of the liveliest; what Houston Christian Scientists lack in testimonial passion they make up for in self-possession.
Another Life, the Christian Broadcasting Network’s born-again soap, hasn’t discarded the essentials of the genre: sex, crime, and violence.
Evangelist Kenneth Copeland has good news: the faithful don’t have to wait for heaven to reap their reward. An Eastern Orthodox congregation in Austin is strict about performance of the liturgy but lax about getting to the church on time.
Supplicants in the Valley worship at the shrine of faith healer Don Pedrito Jaramillo, more powerful in death than he was in life.
Potlicking in Houston churches is nothing new for a lot of black Baptist preachers. It just comes with the territory.
On Yom Kippur, Jews in Dallas mark the Day of Atonement; on Christmas Eve, Episcopalians in Houston gather for a night of adoration.
He’s the man with the Word, and the Word is for you.
Archbishop Patrick Flores acts like a country priest, but he has a tough job: he is the most powerful Catholic clergyman in Texas, and perhaps the most powerful Mexican American as well.
A visiting revivalist lays some eloquent preaching on Pasadena Baptists. Nearby in Houston, the festival of Purim gives templegoers good reason to dress up, drink up, and raise a ruckus.
The millennium is nigh, according to some evangelists, and when Jesus returns, Texans will experience either rapture or hell and high water.
A chant-happy Buddhist sect puts on a dazzling pageant in praise of the Texas cowboy. Pastor Barry Bailey lives up to his reputation as a bulwark of Fort Worth Methodism.
Evangelist James Robison is using the pulpit, prime time television, and Cullen Davis to try to save the world.
Local Church members in Houston make sure God hears them; Trinity Baptist in San Antonio is confident it has God’s ear.
You’ll really groove on the teachings of the Today Church in Dallas; tiny Keene is a town for Seventy-day Adventists-all week long.
Century-old Antioch Baptist shouts its message over the sky-high rooftops of downtown Houston. St. Mary’s in Galveston is Texas’ only basilica.
Why do 61 million adult Americans say “pooh” to the pew?
The feisty pastor of the People’s Baptist Church keeps marching on to war with the State of Texas. Mexican American Pentecostals in the Valley ask Houston’s God’s help on a hot problem.
Texas’ rural Wends take time from chores to attend St. Paul’s Lutheran in Serbin; vacationers on Padre Island take time from play to attend an open-air mass at St. Andrew’s by the Sea.
Jehovah’s Witnesses in Dallas have their Kingdom on earth; Presbyterians in Midland have taken root on the dusty plain.
On Palm Sunday Episcopalians at St. David’s in Austin rekindled their faith in the life and teachings of Jesus. At nearby Greater Mt. Zion on Easter, Baptists relived the miracles of His resurrection.
In France you can commune with the angels at Chartres or mingle with the home folks at the American Church in Paris.
Adventurous Methodists try the case against the Church; pallid Seventh-day Adventists try the worshiper’s patience.
Pentecostal revivalists bask in the Spirit of the Holy Ghost; Muslims find solace in the will of Allah.
Preachers Robert Schuller and Rex Humbard have zeroed in on the modern way to reach a congregation: electronically.
A Dallas rabbi says Christmas is a form of persecution for Jews; a Disciples of Christ pastor discusses suffering with equanimity.
The difference between jogging with the Lord and just walking along behind.
Joining God’s army at Berachah Church in Houston; joining the fine families of Beaumont’s Trinity United Methodist.
At St. Patrick’s in San Antonio they sing and dance—during mass. At Lakewood Assembly of God in Dallas they sing and sing and sing . . .
Welcome to Dallas’ first Baptist, the largest Baptist church in the world, with a pastor and a service to match; a more modest path to religious enlightenment leads you to Houston’s Emerson Unitarian.
Were the words of Russian exile Georgi Vins heard over the din of the Southern Baptist Convention?
A Lutheran pastor in New Braunfels challenges his congregation; a Methodist minister in Dallas soothes his.
Congregation Beth Israel in Houston remembers the Holocaust quietly; Allandale Baptist Church in Austin isn’t quiet about anything.
Will the Episcopalians inherit the Methodists and Baptists? Will the Pentecostals inherit some tact?
Sherman’s First United Pentecostal Church believes persecution is good for the soul.
We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing; we chasten and hasten to tell you all about it.
Modern nuns have left the convent and entered the world. If they don’t like what they find, can they go home again?
How a towheaded kid from North Carolina became God’s best salesman.
Charismatics start by losing their heads and end up with a new kind of religion.
Don’t take this wrong, but they’ve hired Eldridge Cleaver to get you.
Abilene, Abilene, strangest town I’ve ever seen.
Witches are where you find them. But where is that?
A fat 15-year-old inaugurated 1000 years of peace in Houston this fall. Don't look now, but the people you went to college with may be following him.
Those Jesus Freaks are your children. But what's the colony like in Dallas?