Look across the street at the imposing structure defined by its six massive white columns, the wide flight of concrete steps leading up to the entrance, and the triangular pediment sitting heavily on top.
This is the Auckland Baptist Tabernacle. It looks a bit like a slice of ancient Rome dropped onto the corner of Queen Street, doesn't it? That is by design. The architect, Edmund Bell, modeled it on the Pantheon in Rome, filtering the design through the Metropolitan Tabernacle in London. When it went up in 1885, this wasn't just a church; it was the largest room in the entire city, built to hold fifteen hundred people.
The man responsible for filling those seats was Thomas Spurgeon. He was affectionately known as "Son Tom," because his father was the Victorian preaching celebrity C.H. Spurgeon. Tom didn't come to New Zealand for fame, though. He came for his lungs. He suffered from severe respiratory issues and traveled here hoping the climate would keep him alive. He healed, he stayed, and he drew such crowds that they had to build this massive hall.
They originally planned to have the front face Karangahape Road, the street just up the hill, but they flipped the plans so this grand facade would face Queen Street and be visible all the way from the harbor.
Now, Tom Spurgeon had a flair for the dramatic. When they laid the foundation stone, he announced a bold vow: this massive project had to open entirely debt-free. That was a staggering challenge. On opening day in May 1885, after a year of frantic construction, they were still short by one hundred pounds. In today's currency, that is roughly twenty-five thousand New Zealand dollars. A lot of money to find in an afternoon.
They passed the collection plates one final time during the service. Tension was high. When the count came back and it was announced that the target was met, the crowd lost their composure. They erupted into the Doxology-a short hymn of praise to God-singing it over and over again in sheer relief.
Take a look at those white pillars again. They are the defining feature, but in the 1960s, during a misguided "modernization" phase, someone decided the ornate, flowery tops of the columns-the Corinthian capitals-were too old-fashioned. So, they stripped them off, leaving the pillars stark and plain. Truly a crime against architecture. Thankfully, a restoration project years later put the detailed tops back where they belong.
Those pillars actually sparked a fascinating modern mystery. In 2010, a Saudi man named Ahmed Joktan had a vivid dream during Ramadan. He was told to find a "house with white pillars" to find the truth. He flew all the way to Auckland, stumbled upon this building, and recognized it instantly from his sleep. He walked in and eventually converted to Christianity.
Inside, there is a clock gifted by Tom’s non-identical twin brother, Charles, who was a pastor back in Greenwich, London. It was a sweet way to ensure the brothers were essentially running on the same time, despite the ocean between them. Also, the ceiling inside was painted by Charles Blomfield. You might know him as the famous landscape painter of the Pink and White Terraces, but his day job was a sign writer right next door.
This building is a survivor, holding its ground while the city changed around it.
Take a moment to admire the sheer scale of that portico. When you are ready to move on, we will head up towards the ridge.
