Give me that old time religion!

"Preach often, and if necessary use words."  St. Francis of Assisi

Think back with me for a while. What and when was the greatest lesson that you were taught in life? Chances are it was not from some book (other then the Bible, of course). I dare say that it was not in a class lecture you heard once, or gleaned from some politician's campaign speech. Furthermore, I will be so bold as to say that it was most probably not from the pulpit, either.

No, chances are it was from that silent language that some people seem to be able to communicate without saying a word. Things like courtesy, or an honest example and a life well lived most often speak louder than words.

Often, I think of those men of God who influence me. One was an old country pastor, a carpenter by trade, who absolutely murdered the queens english. Ain't was a verb for all seasons, that's for sure. Preach? He couldn't preach his way out of a paper bag, as the saying goes. You know, come to think of it, he didn't smile a lot, either; but he always had a pleasant expression on his face. You could tell that he was at peace with himself and God, and for that matter everyone else, too, including a little 12 year old want to be preacher—that being me, of course.

Looking back, I must have been a nuisance. Always wanting to tag along. Asking questions about the most mundane things. Mimicking the way he said "Hallelujah!" I remember once during a tent revival at which hardly anyone turned up for, he got blessed. He started laughing after the altar call (that was before the user friendly days and we still had altars in all of our churches) and  he sat on the altar and begin to laugh and cry at the same time. Well, I had to have that too, so I started laughing too, then I got really tickled at myself and had a barrel of fun. Never did manage to cry, though. Looking back, yeah, it was kind of odd, but it certainly did not drive me from the church. I just wanted God, and more of Him, and if laughing did the trick, I was all in for it.

Now, of course, I realize that getting tickled at yourself is not a move of the spirit but it was fun, nonetheless. And, it was Pentecost. I loved it, and still do. Pentecost, that is.

Sure there were and are a lot of excesses. I suppose it always has been that way. Think of the Day of Pentecost. Those with any commonsense at all said, "These men are drunk." But, they weren't.

And, you know something? I saw the revival of those days change people's lives. Ignorant, uneducated people, those without an ounce of formal theological training shaped a generation and beyond, of course.

So, I thank God for men and women who preached the greatest sermons possible without uttering a word. They simply lived the Gospel. It glowed in their lives, and shined all through the darkness in that little neck of the woods where I first met Jesus.

I guess that's why I am old fashioned. I still like hymns with some meat to them, not some la-la make me feel good little ditty thrown up on the screen. I also like to know that communion is more than just a slight interruption in an otherwise routine service, hurried along so we can listen to yet another torturous 45 minute sermon on pop psychology. I also appreciate knowing that the pastor has done his or her homework not just for the classroom but also in the prayer chamber. After all, man shall not live by bread alone. (Luke 4:4)

Funny thing. There's not much of that old timey religion around any more; and there won't be until we return to the fundamentals.