The Brush Arbor Revival

[SueScribe]

For Whem The Church Bells Don't Toll:

"Brush Arbor Revivals" were the only means of worshipping together when my mother was a young girl. Traveling preachers came through, she said, and someone would volunteer to put the arbor up on their land and somehow, she said, everyone showed up on a given Sunday.

The roads weren't paved then. All-purpose mules pulled wagons through rutted wide spots in the terrain. According to my mother, the men built the arbor, the women "put the food together", and the preacher stood under the arbor and delivered the sermon.

Where did these preachers come from, I once asked her. Oh, here and there and it wasn't unheard-of for just anybody to preach. As long as you're preaching from The Good Book, what difference did it make, she asked.

So, then.

Okay. Let's see: Proverbs 6:20-22:

"My son, keep they father's commandment, and forsake not the the law of thy mother;

"Bind them continually upon thine heart, and tie them about thy neck.

"When thou goest, it shall lead thee;
when thou sleepest, it shall keep thee;
and when thou awakest, it shall talk with thee."

I'm sure "son" means "daughter", too. Or else, Solomon was a sexist pig.

Anyone?

[dollfus46]

Sue,

I'm not clear about what you're asking.

Whew, Doc. I thought perhaps I actually DID have the brain of a housefly. Speak more s-l-o-w-l-y to me, Sue.:laugh:

[eyescene]

I think she is reminiscing about days of old. And her time with her mother and respect for parents.

Personally that happen in my life time and I'm NOT THAT OLD...it was in the 60's at "Fort Jessup, Louisiana" just pass Natchitoches if you are heading to Toledo Bend Lake. They held tent revivals there at diff times of the year. In fact that is where my first realization of God and salvation came from, not the church. I was a kid so I don't know if it was a certain denominations or not. But cause it was so diff from what I was use too...it made a lasting imprint on my brain. I really liked it and looked forward to the next meetings...unlike church...which I always found boring....back than we didn't have Children's church....but we always got a box of colors and a coloring book if we came. And if we came 3 Sundays in a row we got to be a member. I went to a lot of different flavors of churches back then and I bet to this day I am still on the row books....

Anyways I like the tent meeting and Loved my child hood @ Fort Jessup. We, my brothers and I found lots of war stuff left over from war time. I remember once seeing what I though was a vine hanging from a tree. I ran, jumped and grabbed and quickly let go....it sliced my hands in shreds, not bad enough to see a Dr. but it hurt plenty enough. It was a steel cable, still not sure why that was hanging there. We found shells and Lord I can't remember what all. Back then we were safe to roam the country side but you best be home before dark and have your chores done or NO supper....

Ummmmm good ole days and tent revivals. Thanks Sue

1822
Fort Jessup is built at the boundary line between the United States and Spanish Texas. Later this outpost serves as the headquarters for the Western division of the United States Army.

http://www.nps.gov/history/nr/travel/caneriver/for.htm

http://tps.cr.nps.gov/nhl/detail.cfm?ResourceId=262&ResourceType=Site

[eyescene]

For more details on the war time @ Fort Jessup.... More (http://www.wtblock.com/wtblockjr/sabine1.htm)

Here's an exert:
During the Texas Revolution, the United States Army maintained an army of about 4,000 troops at Fort Jessup, east of Many, Louisiana. As the Mexican Army moved eastward to its ultimate fate at the Battle of San Jacinto, the U. S. Army established another outpost, known as Camp Sabine, opposite Sabinetown, now a ghost town near Hemphill, Texas; and many persons believe that in the event General Santa Ana's Mexican Army crossed the Sabine River, the Fort Jessup army had orders to attack them. Nevertheless, the high wagon-freighting costs (6 cents a pound) to supply the army at Fort Jessup forced the U. S. Army to consider clearing logjams and navigation impediments in the Sabine River in order to reduce freight costs.

[58ford]

Brush arbor meetings. I used to set type for a printing co. and I had to deal with the customers because I had to get the copy. A church in this area has an annual brush arbor celebration commemorating the beginning of their congregation. Their preacher however insists that it is a Brush "Harbor" that they are celebrating, and refuses to believe that "arbor" is even a word. He's a nice guy though & despite his spelling problem, a dedicated servant of the Lord.

[SueScribe]

Whew, Doc. I thought perhaps I actually DID have the brain of a housefly. Speak more s-l-o-w-l-y to me, Sue.:laugh:

Doc and you are . . well. I think ya'll are anticipating me too much, maybe think I have some ulterior motive, just maybe? :smt118

Eyescene nailed the thing, but I really intended that it be more than simple recollection.

On Sunday mornings, like yesterday morning, I noticed a contingent of folks around here who clearly (like me) weren't in "church."

This could be our "church", in a manner of speaking. On any given Sunday, anyone, any time, can just . . post and reflect or recollect or deliberately try to confuse df and doc. :smt118 Yesterday, like one of the characters in Cold Mountain, I simply let my Bible flop open and "stobbed my finger" on a page. What I posted is what I saw on that page.

See?

Sue

[SueScribe]

Sue,

I'm not clear about what you're asking.

:attack:

[SueScribe]

Whew, Doc. I thought perhaps I actually DID have the brain of a housefly. Speak more s-l-o-w-l-y to me, Sue.:laugh:

:smt058

[eyescene]

:smt058 There sure are a lot of :kiss: kissing on this here Christian thread! :smt058
:grouphug::bhug::attack::kekeke:

[SueScribe]

If you look at my post on the Most Beautiful Places thread, then you'll see a place I often had church daily on my way home from work.

I did look, and what an amazing place. You could really throw up a brush arbor and revive there, I suspect. Just beautiful. Georgia, eh? We used to pass through a little town named Rising Fawn, Georgia, on our way down here from the home of my youth - East Tennessee - another fairly beautiful place to be.

[SueScribe]

Once upon a time, Johnnie Ratliff said long ago, you could hear the voices singing, the hymns "rolling across these hills", through the open windows of a clapboard country church with its windows raised high against the heat. The pews were supplied with hand-held fans which featured a funeral home advertisement on the obverse of Jesus' prayerful face in the garden at Cedron.

This was, according to my mother, a spirit-filled house of the Lord.

No one sang in tune, or in chorus, or even from the same page on the hymnal. The joyful noise that rolled across Johnnie Ratliff's hills would probably have sounded like a gospel radio channel, slightly off-signal and picking up a heartwrenching country song.

As I sit under the boughs of this brush arbor tonight, one song only rolls over these hills, and I'm likely the only one who hears:

As I travel, down life's pathways,
knowing not what the years may hold;
as I ponder, life grows fonder, and
precious memories flood my soul.

Precious mother, loving father,
sent from somewhere to my soul,
and old home scenes from my childhood,
in fond memories unfold.

Precious memories,
how they linger; how they ever touch my soul -

In the stillness of the midnight,
precious, sacred scenes unfold.

(cir. 1897)

On another thread here I read that prayer is the connection between us and God, the conduit or private audience with, I don't recall precisely. Brother Stanley's message, whatever it was. The connection between us and God, in my limited opinion, is not prayer. It's faith.

On another thread, a new churchgoer ponders the utility of churches fixating and waiting on the Second Coming, with so much else going on in the meantime, and how the faithful are thrilled with the prospect. Soon, they say. Soon.

And now that the song has finished playing in my very disturbed head, the thoughts come wandering in . .

" . . though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal."

"And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity - - -

I am nothing."

Don't worry, everything is in good hands.

Remember Love and Compassion more, and the rebuilding of the Temple Mount, a little less.

And I reckon, that's the brush arbor revival for this evening.

[SueScribe]

The Bible says we should separate ourselves from The World, that we cannot serve both God and mammon. How far back do you reckon The Almighty wants us to retreat from The World when it seems to be in desperate, dire straits? How far in the sand of The World's suffering turmoil should our necks be?

Shall we pray:

Oh, Lord, show us Thy way, and then? Explain it, please. We're dense.

Amen

[countrygirl]

I've been told that my great, great grandfather was a circuit preacher in South MS and that he had a wife and family on both ends of his circuit. I know my grandfather haled from Sullivan's Holler at one time or another way back then.

[Sister Golden Hair]

I know this is a bit off topic, but I think I am suffering from church burnout. Seems I leave more exasperated than I am when I arrive.

I find my work a real service to the Lord and have many more opportunities to learn and share in God's word at work than I feel I do at church. It seems the whole "system" at church seems sometimes for show, rather than a true worship experience.

I am finding that I feel most connected with God whn I am serving my fellow man. The blessings and lessons that I recieve from tending to dying patients are so REAL. Seems we are so intent on raising attendance and providing entertainment to entice attendance at church, that we miss the chance to really minister to those in need.

I am struggling with the church thing-not with my love for God or what my ministry is. Your prayers would be most welcome.

[Honey]

I know this is a bit off topic, but I think I am suffering from church burnout.
Your prayers would be most welcome.

I can only speak from my experience. I went thru that also. And in dealing with me and my problem of burnout I found that I was putting my 'church works' in front of my 'worship'. It can happen. Remember worship is more important than works. Works is important also because you are giving back to God in letting him use your body for helping others. But He would rather have you worship. Remember He will get the job done no matter what. I went from teaching SS and cooking Wednesday night meals to just burnout. It took some time to get back right because I thought I was going crazy and surely I must not be saved. I know it is hard and that it can be troublesome but know you are not alone. I will pray for you. We all have valleys and some of mine are bottomless at times. It will get better. Love Ya- Honey

[SueScribe]

I've been told that my great, great grandfather was a circuit preacher in South MS and that he had a wife and family on both ends of his circuit. I know my grandfather haled from Sullivan's Holler at one time or another way back then.

Sullivan's Holler? That sounds familiar.

One of my mother's brothers married the daughter of a circuit preacher, who cautioned my uncle to "keep [his] daughter out of the cotton fields!" Preacher Sharpe was his name and he traveled in farm truck, open bed vehicle with a loudspeaker mounted to the top of the cab.

My father was a generous man the few short years he tried farming cotton on halves with a father-in-law whose thumbs were on the scales, and he reportedly gave Preacher Sharpe many bushels of produce during those years until, on one particularly hot Summer's day, Preacher Sharpe's vehicle slowed at the edge of the cotton field and the preacher shouted at my father over the loudspeaker: "Is it hot enough out there for you, Brother Pete?"

My Uncle Loyd, working with my father at the time, told me just a few years ago about that day, about the Preacher's broadcast across the cottonfield, and my father's unheard reply as the preacher drove on, "That S.O.B. has got his last pound of onions outta me."

(Endnote: That winter or the next, Pete bought a set of books - twelve volumes in Basic and Industrial Electricity. He studied at night, night after night, and at some point in his education decided he knew enough to drive to Bogalusa each morning before dawn and stay until the last shift at Gaylord Container Corporation "met" at midnight, until one fine night they called his name for an electrical helper, and the rest is my father's history as a Union Man, A Journeyman, and not a farmin' or easily forgivin' man. :-D

I know this is a bit off topic, but I think I am suffering from church burnout. Seems I leave more exasperated than I am when I arrive.

That sounds familiar, too. But, you say you're being gratified in other ways, true? Whatever your heart speaks to you, moves you to do in the spirit of Christ, then . . you're doing the real works He speaks about, and there is no greater calling than that, is there? A church is a building. The Almighty Himself told David that he didn't need a "house of cedars", that He followed and dwelled with them in their tents, their encampments, wherever they might be. (As I recall.)

I realize full-well that we are directed to congregate, and have "hoods" with one another, but in the end?

Show me the mercy. Don't pray about it or preach about it, but show me.