Built on Faith

The resurrection of a rural Louisiana church, into its next life as a BnB

by

Getaways

The drive to La Maison de L’Église feels like so many Sunday trips to church, pot-hole freckled roads winding between crawfish ponds. Then, there it is: nestled near the main road, looking as if it’s ready to welcome the congregation.

But upon closer inspection, there’s a dissonance about it all: a blush pink door and matching shutters, finishes that lean slightly more cottage than cathedral. Inside, sunlight filters through stained glass, but instead of playing on pews, it illuminates an eclectic arrangement of antique furniture and stunningly modern finishes.

A sense of spirituality remains, though—the space invites its guests to rest and reflect, to pursue peace and comfort. Formerly known as Iota United Methodist, the historic church has been thoughtfully transformed into this serene and architecturally reverent overnight stay in Iota, Louisiana.

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The building’s origins go back to December 6, 1901, when the infamous politician C.C. Duson—who is credited with founding the town of Iota—donated the land to the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, which built a church there. In 1938, congregants built a new structure using salvaged materials from the original one. The church was active until 2015, when attendance eventually waned enough to warrant official closure.

It was only two years later that Rebecca Smith and her son Adam purchased the vacant building in their hometown. “The people in the community thought we were crazy,” Smith laughed. “I thought I was crazy, too.”

In the midst of remodeling the building themselves, rewiring everything, installing plumbing—“because there was no plumbing”—Smith remembers looking at Adam and asking, “What have we done?” In response, he shook his head and said, “We done gone too far to turn back now, Tom Sawyer.”

When they purchased it, the back of the church was a vast, hollow shell, an open area lined with Celotex ceiling tiles and a dramatically sunken foundation. “I must’ve pulled a million staples out of that ceiling,” Smith recalled. With painter’s tape and a vision, she began sketching out walls where there were none. And slowly, the interior began to take shape. The rear of the building, once a foot-and-a-half lower than the front, had to be raised. A narrow, sloping hallway was replaced with a wider, leveled corridor.

Though she did consider making a home in the church, Smith’s motivation was always to simply preserve it. “I just didn’t want it turning into something that wouldn’t suit the town,” she said. During the renovation, a steady presence often stopped by to check in: her longtime friend Brenda Frisard, a retired postmaster and private investigator who has flipped six properties of her own. Frisard loved watching the transformation unfold and saw the beauty in every step.

So, when Smith eventually decided that the church was too much space for her to use for herself, she placed a call to Frisard to see if she was interested in buying it. The rest is history.

When Frisard swings open the rose-hued door to greet her guests, she moves through the space with the ease of someone who has known it in every season, noting each nook and cranny with a kind of tender affection that feels contagious.

“I think that if these church walls could talk, they would say, ‘Thank you for all of the hard work.’ And if there are any spirits here, I know they’re happy.” —Brenda Frisard

The sanctuary-turned-living room retains its open sweep, a space you can almost navigate by memory if you’ve spent any time in an old country church. There are no pews to wind through now, only antique settees, soft rugs, and the warm glow of crystal lamps. You can still feel the quiet gravity of what this room once held, a lingering in the air of familiarity and closeness. Evidence of that past is preserved in a treasured scrapbook Frisard keeps on display, its pages brimming with snapshots of fellowship and potlucks, baptisms and bridal showers. “They were a close-knit group,” she mused, gently flipping through photos of smiling faces in their Sunday best.

Throughout the space, there are tender nods to the building’s past. In one of the bathrooms, framed hymnal pages from the original church adorn the wall. Elsewhere, furnishings and fixtures, racks, windows, and woodwork have either been preserved or thoughtfully reimagined. The walls, original and imperfect, have been allowed to speak for themselves: seafoam green mingles with natural wood grain, darkened by age in certain places. The design choices are so seamless it’s hard to tell what was preserved from the building’s former life and what has been reinvented.

Even the guest rooms reflect the church’s history, each named for someone who shaped its century-long story. There’s the Duson Room, honoring C.C. Duson, who donated the original lot in 1901 where the first Methodist church in Iota was built. The Hayes Room pays tribute to Mrs. Martha Hayes and her family, who helped keep the church going during its toughest years following World War I. And, of course, the Smith Suite. “Rebecca and Adam put a lot of heart and soul into this house,” Frisard says of the honor.

That deep sense of care isn’t lost on the community, members of whom Frisard describes as her biggest supporters. “I’ve hosted many families who moved away and always come back to visit,” said Frisard. Charleen Precht, who joined the church at just twelve years old, recently stayed at La Maison de lÉglise with her two sisters, also former members, and a group of cousins. “We had an absolute blast,” she recalled of the trip. Walking into the space, she was immediately flooded with memories, down to the exact pew where her family sat every Sunday. “It’s hard to imagine … now the altar is a [coffee] bar,” she laughed. “But I’m so happy Brenda has turned it into such a beautiful space. People love to come and be there.”

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Guests have come from as far as Germany—each one finding something hauntingly beautiful in the historic space—and in some cases, simply haunting. Frisard laughed as she shared stories of four different guests who’ve reported unusual experiences: doors opening on their own, footsteps echoing down empty hallways, and the sound of muffled voices when no one else was around. She typically responds, “Baby, it’s an old house. It’s going to make noise.” Frisard believes that whatever energy lingers here is at peace, and welcomes guests.

“I think that if these church walls could talk, they would say, ‘Thank you for all of the hard work.’ And if there are any spirits here, I know they’re happy.” 

Details at the "Maison de l'Église" Facebook page.