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Abandoned Pigeon Church: Forgive Us For Our Trespass
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Pulpit Views
Forgive Us Dear Lord For Our Transgressions...
Finding this abandoned church of worship was pretty easy. The exact location of this former house of worship would surprise many urban explorers. It's located right in the heart of a rather busy neighborhood surrounded by so many changes. I won't go into detail on the history of this place since it is quite a gem once inside. Let us begin on my mission to get inside this place of God.
It took me four scouting missions to finally realize that what I thought was the entrance was not actually the entrance until on my third scouting mission I realized there was the entrance on the other side staring me in the face. From then, I knew I had to explore this church on all days of the week; a Sunday. The day of rest and worship. The irony finally came to me while drafting this exploration report.
Upper Balcony View
Pulpit
Center of Religious Indoctrination aka Central bimah
Once inside this grand and former religious institution, I was joined by a different flock of congregants. They made their presence known cooing and flapping around my head as daylight began to trickle inside. I could already tell that these faithful pigeons had made it inside their home. Large quantities of pigeon feces were everywhere. It would take large and extensive renovations to fix this epic mess. The pigeons had already made a cozy home within the holes of the roof. Plaster and roofing materials had already come down in some places. Looking up you good see this church was a grand and beautiful house where many came to worship. The elaborate banister and ceiling tiles on the ground floor were intricate and symbolic. Seating numbers were etched in seating cushions.
Numbered Seating Arrangements
Once majestic ceiling.
Views from the middle of church seating.
One point of note was there was no awful graffiti as some abandoned churches have been desecrated by unmoved artists angering local and historical preservationists to no end. No piping or artifacts seemed to have been absconded with into the night. A large selection of religious texts was still on shelves and down in the basement many more were sitting unopened. As the many pictures showcasing this "church", I took no pictures of the basement. Why do you ask? Well, down in the basement I came across some rather large rodents scuttling around without fear. I quickly took some video and headed back up. No rodent was going to fight me for pictures.
Beautiful architecture.
Church selfie? Am I going to hell?
Much of the property stood as the day the doors were finally closed to the last of the faithful congregants. Drapes were still in place and religious texts covered in mounds of pigeon feces lay open with no one to read from them to the ears of the faithful. I would assume the sacred and most cherished prized possession of this institution was probably removed a long time ago. I certainly didn't look for it.
Where I like to sit in church most of the time.
When the religious literature puts you in a state of eternal slumber.
Seating pews gave phenomenal views all around wherever you sat for worship. The rounded seating gallery arrangement was added for the women.
In the end, only time will tell what happens to this property. The ravenous appetite of property developers will have to wait a little longer as the property deteriorates even further by the elements until demo day arrives. Let us forgive those who trespass against us...
This place holds a special meaning for me. I’ve visited several times, determined to explore every corner and uncover its secrets. But no matter how hard I tried, I never quite managed to see it all. The main front building, the one closest to the road? Never got inside. The massive cooling building in the back with its giant fans and smaller outbuildings? Missed that, too. And then there was the tank farm—a cluster of 22 rusty tanks tucked away in the upper right corner of the property. For some reason, no one ever took pictures of those tanks, even though they sat quietly in the shadows. I only noticed them recently, flipping through my old research notes. That’s when it hit me: I’d never taken the path that led there, too hesitant to get close to the Trenton-Mercer Airport’s fence line. I wasn’t here to get in trouble. I was here for the peaceful, empty buildings, not to risk getting caught wandering near airport grounds. Still, being there felt like stepping back in time. Walking t...
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