Driving north on I-75 through Monroe, Ohio, you used to see it. It was impossible to miss. A massive, sixty-foot-tall figure of Christ rising out of a pond, arms stretched high toward the heavens. Most people didn't call it by its official name, King of Kings. To the millions of commuters and truckers passing by daily, it was simply "Touchdown Jesus." It was weird. It was iconic. It was, for a long time, the weirdest landmark in the Midwest.
Then the lightning hit.
June 14, 2010. A massive storm rolled through Butler County. A single bolt struck the statue, which was made of a highly flammable combination of plastic foam and fiberglass over a steel frame. It didn't just catch fire; it evaporated. Within minutes, the giant Jesus statue Ohio had come to define as a kitschy religious landmark was nothing but a blackened skeleton of charred metal. People stood on the highway shoulder, watching it melt. It felt like the end of an era for Ohio roadside attractions.
The Rise and Fall of the King of Kings
The original statue was the brainchild of Lawrence Bishop. He was the pastor of Solid Rock Church, a massive Pentecostal congregation. Bishop wasn't just a preacher; he was a horse breeder and a bluegrass musician with a flair for the dramatic. He wanted something that would catch the eye of the 100,000-plus drivers passing by his church every single day. He got exactly that.
Completed in 2004, the statue cost about $250,000. It wasn't stone. It wasn't marble. It was basically a giant piece of art-grade Styrofoam covered in a fiberglass skin. This choice of materials is exactly why the fire was so absolute. When the lightning hit, the foam acted as an accelerant. It wasn't just a fire; it was a chemical burn.
Social media wasn't what it is now in 2010, but the "Big Butter Jesus" song by comedian Heywood Banks had already gone viral on the radio. People loved to make fun of it. They loved to gawk at it. But when it burned down, there was a strange, collective sense of loss. Even the skeptics felt like a piece of the Ohio landscape had been ripped out.
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The Replacement: Lux Mundi
The church didn't wait long to rebuild. By 2012, a new figure stood in the pond. This one is called Lux Mundi (Light of the World). It’s different. Very different. Instead of arms stretched upward in a gesture that looked like a referee signaling a score, this Jesus is stepping forward with his arms open wide in a welcoming pose.
Locals immediately gave it a new nickname: "Hug Me Jesus."
Is it safer?
- Fireproofing: Unlike the first one, the new statue is made of polymer composite and concrete. It’s integrated with a massive lightning rod system.
- Material: The exterior is fire-resistant. It won't melt like its predecessor.
- Design: Sculptor Tom Tsuchiya, who also did the statues at the Cincinnati Reds' Great American Ball Park, designed it to be more "sculptural" and less "cartoonish."
Honestly, the new version doesn't have the same "meme power" as the original. It’s more refined. It looks more like traditional religious art. But for those who grew up driving between Dayton and Cincinnati, the memory of the foam giant remains a permanent fixture of Ohio lore.
Why We Are Obsessed With Roadside Religion
Why do we care about a giant Jesus statue Ohio residents have mixed feelings about? It’s part of the Great American Road Trip tradition. It’s the same impulse that built the World's Largest Ball of Twine or the Peachoid in South Carolina. We like big things. We like things that break the monotony of the interstate.
Solid Rock Church understood the assignment. They knew that a small sign wouldn't get people to look. A six-story tall man made of foam? That gets people to talk. It gets them to pull over. It gets them to remember the name of the church.
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There’s also the theological debate. Some Christians at the time thought the statue was borderline idolatry or at least a bit "tacky." Others saw it as a bold statement of faith in a secular world. When it burned, some saw it as an act of God—a literal "bolt from the blue" to strike down a false image. The church saw it differently. To them, it was just a freak weather event that tested their resolve to build something even better.
Visiting Monroe Today
If you're planning to stop by, it’s pretty easy. The church is located at 903 Union Rd, Monroe, OH 45050.
- Take I-75 to exit 29.
- Head east toward the church.
- You can see the statue clearly from the parking lot, but be respectful—it’s an active place of worship.
- Don't expect to find a gift shop or a museum dedicated to the fire; the church has moved on, even if the rest of the internet hasn't.
The pond is still there. The reflection of the statue in the water at sunset is actually quite beautiful, regardless of your religious stance. It’s a peaceful spot, which is ironic considering it sits right next to one of the busiest trucking corridors in the United States.
Actionable Insights for the Curious Traveler
If you find yourself on the "Jesus Highway" (as some call this stretch of I-75), don't just snap a photo at 70 mph.
Look for the contrast. Compare the current Lux Mundi to the old photos of King of Kings you can find online. You’ll notice the shift in architectural intent immediately. The first was a billboard; the second is a monument.
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Explore the area. Monroe isn't just a statue. You're right next to the Cincinnati Premium Outlets and just a few miles from Trader’s World and Treasure Aisles—two massive flea markets that embody the same "big and bold" Ohio spirit as the statue itself.
Check the weather. Seriously. The Miami Valley is notorious for sudden thunderstorms. If the sky starts looking dark, remember the history of this spot. The lightning rods on the new statue are there for a reason.
The story of the giant Jesus statue Ohio made famous is a story of resilience, kitsch, and the power of a landmark. It’s a reminder that nothing—not even a sixty-foot tall icon—is permanent. But if you build it big enough, people will keep talking about it long after it's gone.
To get the most out of a visit, aim for the "golden hour" just before sunset. The way the light hits the polymer skin of the new statue makes it glow, providing the best photographic evidence of why this spot continues to draw crowds decades after the first shovel hit the dirt. Drive safely, keep your eyes on the road, but don't be afraid to pull over and gawk. That’s what it was built for.