A church's origins are often murky, but in Puxton's case the village's origin itself is murky. The area seems to have been alternatively known as Wringmarsh in the 12th century, with its modern name, derived from the local land-owning Pukerel family, having emerged by at least the early 13th century. Thus, in the late 12th century it is known that Bruton Priory acquired a chapel at Wringmarsh, which probably refers to Puxton church. The church at this time (and for many centuries after) was a chapel of ease to the parish church at Banwell, meaning that it did not have its own parochial vicar and existed only as a convenient way for the villagers in Puxton to avoid having to make the 3 mile trek to Banwell in order to attend services. It eventually became its own separate parish in 1772.

It is possible that the current structure, a simple, aisleless building, has fabric dating back to its first appearance in records in the 12th century, but it has been quite thoroughly altered since this time and as such it is difficult to tell if anything of the original building remains at all. The windows have all been replaced at various times, with the northeastern nave window dating from the 14th century, the northwestern and southwestern nave windows dating from the 15th century, and the southeastern nave window, the largest and uncusped, possibly dating from the 16th century. The two stage tower was added in the 15th century; the soft ground caused it to begin leaning quite alarmingly westwards almost immediately during construction, and as a result it may not have been built as high as originally planned. The single bell and bellframe in the tower are contemporary with its construction.

One of the more curious features of the church is a low stone screen underneath the chancel arch; it is thought probable that this either supported a wooden rood screen and loft (surviving beams of the latter being visible in the north wall) or replaced them after the Reformation saw their destruction. If the first possibility is true, the stone screen is probably 15th or early 16th century, and in the latter case it would be later 16th century, or perhaps even Laudian (mid-17th century). I personally find the first idea most convincing, as there are clearly remains of a rood screen and loft in the church, and a stone support for the screen is, whilst rare, not totally unique, not even in the county, and may have acted as a sort of cantilever for the loft as the surviving timbers and blocked stairwell show that it projected quite far forward.

Set in the gable of the north porch are two stone fragments, the upper one showing the arms of the St. Loe family and the lower one bearing the date 1557. It is unclear whether this refers to the building date of the porch or to something else, as the stones are not in their original position and do not match up with each other exactly, but the architecture of the porch fits with this date and can be presumed to originate around this time if not in this exact year. The nave roof may have been replaced around this time as well, and later in the 17th century it was tiled with stone. Further modifications to the nave ceiling were carried out in 1770, with records showing great expenditure on supplying the involved carpenters and plasters respectively with 26 and 29 gallons of cider! The external tiles were then replaced with Cornish slate around the 1800 mark.

In 1884-85, the chancel was rebuilt to the designs of Ewan Christian, who may have reused some of the original 16th century window masonry. Additionally, a small organ chamber was added to the north, though it is no longer occupied by an organ. Aside from these alterations, the interior of the church was not restored by the Victorians, who, in a regular restoration, would have undoubtedly replaced the ancient pews and flagstones and removed a great deal of personality from the building. This makes Puxton's interior a rare organic survival and all the more precious and characterful.

In 1960 the eastern end of the nave ceiling was raised during repairs in order to re-expose the crest of the chancel arch which had become obscured by the roof sagging, a situation which returned more drastically in 2000 when the roof failed entirely. The dwindling congregation were not in the financial position to save the church, and it was declared redundant in 2002. Thankfully it was then vested in the Churches Conservation Trust, who carried out essential repairs to the building, protecting this wonderful church for the future.

The information here has been taken variously from the CCT website, and the Historic England listing. 

Puxton's church is not one which stands proud of the landscape as a beacon, rather one that only reveals itself to those absolutely intent on reaching it. After wending one's way down forsaken country lanes, the church is approached from the north, unusual but not rare by any means. The tower is directly ahead once through the gates, and as such the perspective causes doubts to creep into the mind about whether the tower actually leans that much, but walking round to the south side and standing back will prove once and for all the terrifying truth. The south porch is cutesy and rustic, and sets a good precedent for what awaits within the walls.

Once inside, the atmosphere swells around the visitor and inducts them into a world of ancient reverence. A building untouched by the blundering restorer's hand, age seeps through the algae-choked flagstones and mixes with the damp, chilled air. The outside world seems unreachable, and it is almost hard to believe that this space has been placed into the 21st century. The interior is just about satisfactorily lit, but the electric lights go a long way, once you get over the shock of this place having electricity in the first place! There is little to see by way of material items, but the character of the building invites the visitor to stay a while longer and to take it in. One almost takes pity on the building and wishes to remain to keep it from getting lonely, to become a fleeting streak of warmth within these weary walls. In a place like this, the souls of the departed linger as the damp, and the least you can do is sit where they once did and give them your thoughts.