The church roof presented a problem from the first. It was first built with a flat roof which proved unsatisfactory because of leakage. So it was decided to build up a slope roof. Alex Nash agreed to buy the materials and Bennie Edens, with the help of some of the men in the community, agreed to put it on.
       This presented a technical problem. Because of the original flat roof and the dimensions of the building, it was necessary to construct a very steep roof. A five-inch rise to each foot is standard; it was necessary to build a 15-inch rise to each foot on the church roof, which makes it very difficult to repair!
       One of the men helping to roof was Millard Jeffrey. While working on the scaffold one day, he stepped off the board backward and fell -- about four feet to the flat roof below. Bennie says, "If he had been on the west side of the building, we would have lost Millard for sure that day."
       The roof has continued to be a problem for workmen. One preacher, Chuck Pullins, vowed to eat his 5th Sunday dinner on the church roof if the Sunday School Drive pushed the attendance over 150. He didn’t make it which must have been a mixed blessing to him.

       The first pastor that Jack remembers hearing about from his parents was E. T. Caton who was at Dillon Chapel in 1923. In the heat of the summer, the church windows were open to catch the cooling breezes. Often a group of men would stand outside with their arms on the window sills, listening to the sermon and talking. On one such occasion, when the talking grew too loud, Rev. Caton threw a hymn book at them, declaring that he couldn't preach with all that noise!
       The first pastor whom Jack personally remembers was Raymond Workman. A boy at the time, he attended Sunday School and got away as soon as possible. He remembers Raymond helping anybody in the community with their work. Once, the Jeffreys were hoeing cane when he stopped and asked if they had an extra hoe.
       "You can have mine," Jack said hopefully. Rev. Workman took the hoe and Millard sent Jack to the barn to get another one. The preacher hoed and talked, talked and hoed, all afternoon until the job was done. That was his style: to go where people were (usually in the fields) and to talk as he worked. The people in the community may have forgotten his sermons, but they have never forgotten his rolling up his sleeves and helping out!
       In 1944-45, Howard Hall served during the difficult days of World War II. Jack was big buddies with Rev. Hall, who had been a college athlete and had played football for Morris Harvey in Barboursville. Once when visiting another church with Rev. Hall, Jack recalls a lady rushing out hysterically, pleading with the pastor to break up a fight. "Now Mrs. So-and-so," he said, "just calm down. I've paid good money to see fights which weren't as good as this. They'll quit when they've finished." And he sat back to enjoy the fight! Rev. Hall, a Logan County native, recently died in Florida, where he had retired.
       The preacher Jack recalls visiting in the community, among the sick, home-bound and elderly, was Rev. Mack Thomasson. He continued his hospital visits well into his 80's and served as associate pastor after his retirement.
       Jack also felt that Rev. Layfette Vinson was always on hand during illness, crisis or death in the family, lending his support and help.
       Perhaps the preacher Jack will never forget was J. C. (Jake) O'Dell, a bachelor who stayed only one year at Dillon Chapel. When Jack was a teen-ager he led the youth group in the church even though he was not yet a Christian.
       The youth had planned an ice-cream social to sponsor some activities, and it was duly approved by the Church. The evening came, the cakes and pies were baked, and the youth were setting up the tables on the lawn when Rev. O'Dell came out.
       "I've decided not to have the social today," he said.
       "But we had it approved and everything's ready," replied Jack.
       "I know that, but I just can't have it today," said Rev. O 'Dell.
       "Well, the way I see it, you aren't having it anyway. We are. And you don't have anything to do with it." Well, one word led to another, and Jack ended up chasing the good reverend into the parsonage. He ran upstairs and yelled out the window, "Now you get on out of here or I'm going to call the State Police."
       "How are you going to do that?" Jack asked.
       "On that telephone right there," he replied.
       So Jack, who was standing on the porch, kicked the screen door in and jerked the telephone cord out of the wall.
       "If you come down here," he yelled, "the only thing you are going to get is an ambulance to take you to the hospital."
       About this time Jack's Aunt Kathleen Blankenship intervened.
       "Now, Jack," she said, as she took his arm and guided him off the porch. "I know you are not a Christian, but this is church property and you can't act like that." So she allowed the youth group to move all their tables and set up their social under her walnut tree. And everyone was happy. Praise God for wise relatives!

       One of the mainstays of the church financing over the years has been applebutter making. In the beginning this was women's work, the men being busy with "hard labor." In this farming community, the skill was handed down from one generation to another as one of the means to feed their families. Most of us cut our teeth on fresh butter, home-made biscuits and apple-butter. Jack Jeffrey remembers Argie Dunford, Lora Linkfield, and Mrs. Ullom making applebutter when he was a young man. They were stirring in front of the old church which had been moved where the garage now is. There was a downpour and they were struggling to hold a small umbrella over the kettle and keep the fire going.
       Jack and Enoch Mills were driving by when Jack suggested that they stop and help. This was in Jack's drinking days, Enoch wanted to know what the church women would say about their drinking.
       "I don't care what they say," said Jack. "It isn't any of their business. Let's go." So they sent the ladies to the shelter of the church, while they kept the wood burning. By this time, the creeks were rising, with water running everywhere back of the church, over the bridge, and under the houses. Eventually the sun came out and the grateful ladies (now dried out) finished their kettle of applebutter.
       For many years these ladies, as well as Gladys Dunford, Vernie Bradbury, and Eunice Nash helped keep the doors open with their excellent applebutter. There is a lot of work in gathering the wood, selecting the apples, and peeling the apples.
       There is a lot of skill in getting the right apples, getting just the right flavoring, using the proper copper-bottomed kettles, obtaining properly cured wood, and stirring continually to prevent any scorching or sticking. There is also an art in taking off the apple butter at the proper time when it is not too thin to corner or too thick to spread. Because it is today a dying art which few have learned, our church has no difficulty in selling all we can make. And the one kettle has expanded into several kettles averaging between 300 and 400 gallons.
       In the early days the only kettle was owned by Eula Jeffrey. It had been given to her by her grandmother. Folks for miles around borrowed that kettle. One time it was borrowed as far away as Portsmouth, Ohio. The kettle eventually wore thin in the bottom and was retired. Paula Jenkins now keeps it as a momento. (*Note: This paragraph was not in the original Centennial Minutes book.)
       Today applebutter making has become almost a necessity to take up the slack of falling contributions. Although the men of the church do the actual stirring, the women spend several evenings peeling apples and cook for the workers. The men of the church, including Laddie Meadows, Charlie Cooke, Gene Hileman, the Jeffrey's, Jackie Morgan, and Bill Dawson, have had a large part in the annual event. In later years Bob Talbert has made an important contribution by cleaning the kettles with his pressure cleaning truck. This has been such a successful money-maker, that some of the retired men have bought a cane mill and the next big project is raising cane and making molasses!