The Minister’s Treehouse

Noah may have had his ark but Horace Burgess has a treehouse—the world’s largest!

Constructed around an 80-foot tall white oak tree, the 10-story, 10,000 square foot treehouse is a true wonder of the world. It was built without blueprints by a single man on the outskirts of Crossville, Tennessee. Horace claims he was told by God “If you build Me a tree house, I’ll never let you run out of material.” Apparently God kept his word and Horace continues to build.

For 19 years Horace has recycled wood from old barns, sheds, and garages to construct what is known as the Minister’s Treehouse. Working as a full-time landscape architect and ordained minister, Horace has spent an estimated $14,000 of his own money and countless hours on the project. Inside there are spiral staircases, a sanctuary, a choir loft, a basketball court, and countless rooms, walkways, and balconies. Outside is a garden that Burgess has designed with daffodils, irises, narcissus, gladiolas, and wild daisies, to form a cross with radiating sun rays, an American flag, and the word J-E-S-U-S. As Horace says, “The whole message of the thing is if you come to see the site and climb to the top, you’ll see Jesus in the garden, and the preacher didn’t have to say a word.”

During our Texas road trip last month we stopped in Crossville to be inspired and terrified by this enormous treehouse. As we pulled up to the address we encountered no trespassing signs along the driveway and a much larger sign that reads “NO LONGER WILL VANDALISM, SEX, DRUGS & ALCOHOL BE TOLERATED. VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED. Thanks Horace Burgess.” Technically, all visitors are trespassing during their visits but it’s probably more of a technicality so that Horace cannot be sued if someone falls ten stories to their death.

Despite the warnings, we parked our car and proceded to enter the treehouse with the many other trespassers. Since there was no official entrance, we started climbing random ladders and stairways until we reached the sanctuary/basketball court. After pausing briefly to admire the great space and its adorning folk art, we proceeded to wander through more random doorways, secret rooms, across sketchy balconies and catwalks, and up more ladders and stairs until we reached the top of the tower. This place is a twelve-year old’s dream and a building inspector’s nightmare. Nothing about the place feels safe and as we reached the highest point and the wind started swaying the branches we realize we aren’t twelve years old anymore and we hope we don’t fall through the floor or tumble down the unevenly spaced stairs.

Safely back on solid ground, we marveled at the whole thing including the lawn chair tree swing held together by electrical tape and a prayer.