They find the oasis off Exit 17 in Troutdale.
The long-haul truckers leave behind Interstate 84, downshift and rumble into TA Travel Center.
Inside the double doors, they sometimes audibly exhale, relieved to set aside for a while the monotony and intensity of handling a big rig on the highway. Here, they can enjoy a home-style meal at the restaurant, take a shower in a clean locker room, watch TV in the lounge.
A different oasis exists at the far end of the truck stop. Those who make their way to the nondescript building open a door, walk down a hall and step into a small, windowless room.
This unadorned room offers none of the usual amenities of a rest stop.
But it does offer the possibility of rest – or, more specifically, peace – in this loud, busy, stressful world.
The Trucker’s Christian Chapel at TA Travel Center is one of more than 100 such chapels found in truck stops across the country. They are the brainchild of Glenn Cope, an 89-year-old former long-haul trucker, now living with his wife in Aurora.
He came up with the idea decades ago while living in Dayton, Ohio. He’d been driving a truck for more than 35 years and saw a need for a spiritual home for truckers.
In 1987, Cope, who said he was raised in a “Christian home,” convinced a truck-stop operator 35 miles outside of Dayton to donate a room for a chapel. Cope then reached out to a local church to get a volunteer to hold drop-in services there a few times a week.
It was a success.
Cope spread the gospel, so to speak.
“I started one in Kentucky,” he said. “Then all over the place. A driver would tell me someone was building a new truck stop, or I’d visit an existing stop during my runs and give my pitch.”
A truck-stop chaplain is a volunteer and must be recommended by a local church pastor, agree to a statement of faith and go through training classes.
The Troutdale chapel began more than 25 years ago when the truck stop was owned by Burns Bros, which then had 17 truck stops throughout the West.
The company allowed Cope to plant a chapel there, paying for electricity and maintenance, and at other company sites. The partnership continued after the company was sold to Travel Centers of America, which has more than 145 truck stops around the country.
Even though Cope started it all, there is no official leader, no central office or board of directors. No money is collected. Each chapel is run at the local level. The only goal is to help truckers.
“There are a lot of problems and frustrations out on the road,” Cope said. “Sometimes, the only thing that might help a driver comes from the spiritual side.”
When his vision started to deteriorate, Cope retired from trucking, but he continued traveling to help at truck-stop chapels. Then he had to give that up too.
“My health changed,” he said. “At my age, I just can’t do the things I used to do.”
He and his wife wanted to be closer to family, and Cope wanted to continue doing the Lord’s work with truckers.
Everything fell into place when the truck stop in Aurora – an easy drive from where his daughter lives in Vancouver – needed a chaplain. He and his wife now live at Aurora Travel Center in their 56-foot-long trailer.
“My wish,” he said, “is that I draw my last breath in that chapel.”
Two years ago, the Troutdale truck stop chaplain died after running it for 20 years. Cope stepped in, holding services in both Aurora and Troutdale. It was a taxing schedule, but he vowed to keep it up until he could find a replacement.
He received what he called a blessing when 71-year-old Greg Johnson, who lives in Troutdale with his wife of 52 years, heard about the chapel and paid a visit.
Johnson, a former high-school wrestler from Iowa, stands 6-feet 5 inches and is a solid 275 pounds, a presence among any group of truckers.
“Greg wanted to help out,” said Cope. “He did such a good job that it’s now his chapel.”
There are no pews, choir or offering plate in the Troutdale truck-stop chapel.
Johnson and his wife, Cyndy, a soft-spoken woman with an easy smile, get to the truck stop and put small foldable signs in the back lot to let truckers know the chapel is open.
Services – a broad term for what takes place in the room – are held Wednesdays at 7 p.m. and Sundays at 9:30 a.m. and again at 7 p.m.
That done, Johnson and his wife wait.
“Sometimes no one shows up,” Johnson said. “It is what it is.”
Everything in the room is free — food, candy, coffee and the Bible, which Johnson studies, well, religiously. His wife’s job is to put the rare woman trucker at ease, and to help truckers not familiar with the Bible know what page to turn to while her husband discusses specific passages.
Johnson arrived in Portland when the Boeing Co. transferred him from an Auburn plant to Portland to lead a tool engineering group. After 25 years, he retired.
“Church has always been part of my life,” he said. “When I was a kid, the neighbor lady took me to Sunday school.”
He leads a Bible study group at a Gresham soup kitchen and met Glen Cope at a Bible study convention.
“I like sharing God’s word,” he explained, “It’s rewarding, and I feel blessed.”
The Troutdale truck-stop chapel is non-denominational but rooted in Christian evangelism, with a focus on learning and discussing the Bible.
“We have all kinds of truckers come in here,” he said. “Different denominations and faiths. But we are all brothers.”
Johnson said he and his wife never know what to expect.
“We had a man stop in who was down on his luck,” he said. “He was from Arizona and knew nothing about the Bible but wanted one. We gave him a bilingual Bible.
“Sometimes we see a person once and then not again for six months,” he continued. “We’ve had truckers come in to debate about God or ask questions.”
Johnson said some truckers arrive in the chapel not for answers but to request a prayer.
“Sickness, dealing with difficult times in their lives,” said Greg Johnson. “It’s a lonely life sitting in that truck 10 hours a day.”
On the table are stacks of prayer cards that truckers can fill out before they leave.
Please pray for my son, one says.
To get a good job that is closer to my home, another asks.
Someday I want a good wife.
The truckers come from across the United States — and beyond its borders.
In this room, Johnson has been with truckers who are originally from Africa, Ukraine, Russia and South America.
Johnson is there to listen and give his thoughts and perspective, even to those with a different approach.
“We don’t always believe the same way,” he said. “We agree to disagree, and that’s OK.”
Last month a trucker from Texas came in to talk about the Bible, asked questions, then pulled out a harmonica and began playing spiritual tunes.
On a recent Wednesday night, it was clear no truckers were going to step into the chapel. That didn’t bother Johnson.
“My goal is not numbers,” he said. “I’m just here.”
Johnson and his wife arrived at the truck stop Sunday morning and placed the signs in the lot. They were back in the chapel, getting ready for the service when a trucker appeared in the door.
“Come in,” said Johnson. “Welcome.”
Thomas Harrington, 49, wearing shorts, a T-shirt and a denim baseball-style cap, cautiously stepped inside.
He said he was from Ogden, Utah, and would be staying with his rig at the truck stop until his boss was able to line him up with a load to pick up and haul on I-84. He said he was walking to the lounge when he saw the chapel sign.
Looking at that sign, he had a choice to make, he told Johnson.
“I could go to the bar,” he said, “or I could come in here for spiritual care.”
He took a seat.
“Here I am.”
Harrington told Johnson he’d been raised in a religious home. He believed people should help others, but his time on the road was giving him second thoughts.
“When I’m out there I’m anonymous, all the people in the cars are anonymous,” he said. “But I don’t like how I feel when people cut me off, or act with anger, all the bad behavior on the road.”
He told Johnson he grappled with two conflicting Bible messages he remembered from his youth.
Forgive.
An eye for an eye.
“No one knows what anyone’s going through,” he said. “I have to believe that most people are going in the same direction.”
He rubbed his cheeks.
“I’m here,” he said, “because I want a soul of charity.”
He fiddled with one of the Bibles Johnson and his wife leave on the tables for truckers.
“I want to remind myself that the world still cares,” Harrington said. “I want to know how I can make that outcome true by my choices.”
Johnson smiled.
“You can make a difference,” he said. “Let’s have a conversation.”
