Even the New York Times posted the announcement. The first and only female governor of Kentucky died at the age of 88. All the papers across the Commonwealth did the same, and Democratic Governor Andy Beshear and Republican Senator Mitch McConnell did the same. She served from 1983-1987, after serving four years at Lieutenant Governor. What came next was the presidency of St. Catharine College, then scholar-in-residence at Georgetown College, beginning there one year after I assumed the position of Dean of the Chapel.
That’s how I knew her, and that’s how she came to be the first studio guest when I launched a Sunday noon radio show call “The Meetinghouse: Conversations on Religion and American Life.” We offered news, interviews, commentary, and music in an NPR-style format. Collins was joined by another former governor on that broadcast, Brereton Jones. It was an auspicious beginning, recognized by Jones who wrote, in part, “The Meetinghouse is a great concept, and I wish you much success. Your dedication and articulate commitment to the role of religious in our society is inspirational.”
None of us in the studio that day could have imagined the rise of White Christian Nationalism, the decline in religious affiliation and participation, or the election of a Muslim as mayor of New York City. Much has changed, in religion and in media and also in religion in the media, and I give much of the credit for that to 9-11. On that day and afterwards, media organizations discovered they had no resources to discuss the role of religion in that awful episode of destruction and death.
My radio program tried to do just that, but it did not last long, and for that I blame myself … for not discerning the urgent from the important. Although I had been commissioned to launch a radio program when I was hired in 1997, it remained on the margins of my primary tasks (of classroom teaching, chapel preaching, and representing the College in a myriad ordinary ways). The Meetinghouse broadcast grew to eight affiliates in five states, pushed along with the help of a part time executive director and an even shorter time newsman. But I did not have the time to do all that and raise money and promote the show and write the content.
After two plus years I announced a suspension, after which I took a call from the college president who said, “The Lilly Endowment wants us to apply for a two-million-dollar grant, and I am putting you in charge.” He and his team insisted that the idea behind the meetinghouse broadcast be the framing concept of our proposal, but none of us considered including in the request money to sustain and expand the broadcast. I don’t know why, but I do know that the Endowment had already told me they did not normally put money into media initiatives (Religion News Weekly being excepted).
That is how and why I switched from hosting a radio show to managing what eventually became a $2.55 million, eight-year grant program. All that did good stuff and helped produce a wave of students entering Christian ministry as a vocation now serving all over the state and region. I moved my radio commentary to the commuter and commenced sending out thoughts to people and publishers. I write about this in my memoir It’s About Time: A Memoir of Ministry at Georgetown College. Before that, I published a volume of these essays under the title On the Other Side of Oddville.
Martha Layne Collins outlasted me at the college. She was there until 2012, but I lost my job in 2008 in a budget crunch that eliminated 15 employee positions. That still seems odd to me, but I held up my head and took off for Indianapolis to ask the Endowment for money for The Meetinghouse. I never got the opportunity because in the small talk leading up to my anticipated and well-planned presentation, we got to talking about young preachers. They quizzed me about our grant and the response of students and what ideas we had for inspiring young people toward the preaching ministry. I knew what was happening on our campus, but they knew what was happening around the country, and that is why they said, “We want you to do this young preachers initiative. We will give you the money.” Or words to that effect.
That is how The Meetinghouse was again pushed to the side and something else, also of value, was pulled to the front. For the next decade, I launched and led The Academy of Preachers. (AoP) I have written a book about that decade. I call it The Great Amen and hope to publish it in 2026 (in concert with the relaunch of the AoP in April).
After that, I retired, moved to St. Simons Island, and relaunched the radio program and added the weekly newsletter. Now, nine years later, I have another collection of essays ready for a publisher and have turned my broadcast skills, slim as they are, to YouTube and the growing numbers of de-churched people. I call it Sunday in the House.
Last Sunday on my broadcast I paused to honor the life and legacy of Martha Layne Collins. She died last week at the age of 88. I hope to pass by the casket when she lies in state or attend the public service when she is remembered by the people for her winsome ways, full of character, competence, and kindness. In that way and for those qualities, she will remain as an example of the kind of people sorely needed in public spaces today.
Twenty-seven years after we first met in the studio to launch The Meetinghouse, I am using The Meetinghouse newsletter to say, “God bless the memory and lingering influence of Martha Layne Collins.”
Dwight A. Moody
subscribe to Dr. Moody’s free, weekly newsletter with his commentary on Religion and American Life (with occasional book review).
Even the New York Times posted the announcement. The first and only female governor of Kentucky died at the age of 88. All the papers across the Commonwealth did the same, and Democratic Governor Andy Beshear and Republican Senator Mitch McConnell did the same. She served from 1983-1987, after serving four years at Lieutenant Governor. What came next was the presidency of St. Catharine College, then scholar-in-residence at Georgetown College, beginning there one year after I assumed the position of Dean of the Chapel.
That’s how I knew her, and that’s how she came to be the first studio guest when I launched a Sunday noon radio show call “The Meetinghouse: Conversations on Religion and American Life.” We offered news, interviews, commentary, and music in an NPR-style format. Collins was joined by another former governor on that broadcast, Brereton Jones. It was an auspicious beginning, recognized by Jones who wrote, in part, “The Meetinghouse is a great concept, and I wish you much success. Your dedication and articulate commitment to the role of religious in our society is inspirational.”
None of us in the studio that day could have imagined the rise of White Christian Nationalism, the decline in religious affiliation and participation, or the election of a Muslim as mayor of New York City. Much has changed, in religion and in media and also in religion in the media, and I give much of the credit for that to 9-11. On that day and afterwards, media organizations discovered they had no resources to discuss the role of religion in that awful episode of destruction and death.
My radio program tried to do just that, but it did not last long, and for that I blame myself … for not discerning the urgent from the important. Although I had been commissioned to launch a radio program when I was hired in 1997, it remained on the margins of my primary tasks (of classroom teaching, chapel preaching, and representing the College in a myriad ordinary ways). The Meetinghouse broadcast grew to eight affiliates in five states, pushed along with the help of a part time executive director and an even shorter time newsman. But I did not have the time to do all that and raise money and promote the show and write the content.
After two plus years I announced a suspension, after which I took a call from the college president who said, “The Lilly Endowment wants us to apply for a two-million-dollar grant, and I am putting you in charge.” He and his team insisted that the idea behind the meetinghouse broadcast be the framing concept of our proposal, but none of us considered including in the request money to sustain and expand the broadcast. I don’t know why, but I do know that the Endowment had already told me they did not normally put money into media initiatives (Religion News Weekly being excepted).
That is how and why I switched from hosting a radio show to managing what eventually became a $2.55 million, eight-year grant program. All that did good stuff and helped produce a wave of students entering Christian ministry as a vocation now serving all over the state and region. I moved my radio commentary to the commuter and commenced sending out thoughts to people and publishers. I write about this in my memoir It’s About Time: A Memoir of Ministry at Georgetown College. Before that, I published a volume of these essays under the title On the Other Side of Oddville.
Martha Layne Collins outlasted me at the college. She was there until 2012, but I lost my job in 2008 in a budget crunch that eliminated 15 employee positions. That still seems odd to me, but I held up my head and took off for Indianapolis to ask the Endowment for money for The Meetinghouse. I never got the opportunity because in the small talk leading up to my anticipated and well-planned presentation, we got to talking about young preachers. They quizzed me about our grant and the response of students and what ideas we had for inspiring young people toward the preaching ministry. I knew what was happening on our campus, but they knew what was happening around the country, and that is why they said, “We want you to do this young preachers initiative. We will give you the money.” Or words to that effect.
That is how The Meetinghouse was again pushed to the side and something else, also of value, was pulled to the front. For the next decade, I launched and led The Academy of Preachers. (AoP) I have written a book about that decade. I call it The Great Amen and hope to publish it in 2026 (in concert with the relaunch of the AoP in April).
After that, I retired, moved to St. Simons Island, and relaunched the radio program and added the weekly newsletter. Now, nine years later, I have another collection of essays ready for a publisher and have turned my broadcast skills, slim as they are, to YouTube and the growing numbers of de-churched people. I call it Sunday in the House.
Last Sunday on my broadcast I paused to honor the life and legacy of Martha Layne Collins. She died last week at the age of 88. I hope to pass by the casket when she lies in state or attend the public service when she is remembered by the people for her winsome ways, full of character, competence, and kindness. In that way and for those qualities, she will remain as an example of the kind of people sorely needed in public spaces today.
Twenty-seven years after we first met in the studio to launch The Meetinghouse, I am using The Meetinghouse newsletter to say, “God bless the memory and lingering influence of Martha Layne Collins.”
Dwight A. Moody
subscribe to Dr. Moody’s free, weekly newsletter with his commentary on Religion and American Life (with occasional book review).
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