"Old Time Religion"

I was thinking today about the church that I was raised in . It was a small church in Symrna, Georgia. The name of it was Spring Street Baptist Church.

The church was so small that every member knew each and every one of the other members. This was a church not at all like the large ones that are built today. I had a friend who attended one of those large churches that are around these days. He went to that church each and every time the doors were open for three years, and when he passed away, not a single soul knew it.

My brothers and sisters and I all went to Sunday school, Sunday church services (morning and night), Wednesday night services, and in the summer, Vacation Bible School there. We were in all of the Christmas plays, and my twin sister and I sang in front of the congregation for the first time when we were only four years old. The song was Victory In Jesus, and I remember being a nervous wreck.

I remember that the congregation was made up of people that all seemed more like family than just simply members of the church. Looking back, I think it was just as it should have been.

We had an older couple there, I'll call them the Stones, that always controlled the thermostat in the church. I think Mr. Stone must have been the caretaker, but I'm not sure. I do know one thing, however, and that is that if Mrs. Stone was cold the heat came on, and If Mrs. Stone was hot, then and only then, the air conditioner was turned on.

We had the same deacons and Sunday school teachers for as long as I can remember, and everything there on most days always seemed to flow along in a gracious manner, and with a christian spirit.

Don't get me wrong, once in a while something would happen that would cause controversy, and people would talk.

There was one elderly widow lady there who would always sit on the front pew. She would , when the spirit moved her, as my grandmother would say, "go to shoutin'". I'll call her Mrs. Smith. She was without a doubt the most enthusiastic member of our church.

There was another elderly couple who also sat on the same pew with Mrs. Smith, and I'll call them the Deans. The Deans always sat quietly and just listened to the service.

The controversy began when Mrs. Dean passed away. Mrs. Smith and Mr. Dean continued to sit on the same pew, the only difference being the space that was left between them by the absence of Mrs. Dean. I'm not sure how long the time frame was before the vacant spot between the two was no longer left empty, because the two had closed the gap. I do know that it couldn't have been very long, because I heard some of the older women in the church talking about how it was "just a shame" that Mr. Dean didn't have more respect for his late wife.

Shortly after the controversy began Mr. Dean married Mrs. Smith, and the older members of the church began calling her Smith/Dean. (No Mrs. included, and I am pretty sure it was always said when Mrs. Smith wasn't there to hear it). This was probably the most scandalous event that ever happened while I was there.

In my church, just like in all places where large groups of people have gathered, people talked. The preacher was a good one, and like all good southern Baptist preachers, was on occasion known to preach a fire and brimstone sermon where he told it like it was. The services were always meaningful and the old gospel hymns were wonderful to hear.

The majority of that congregation have "gone on to be with the Lord", as they would say, the preacher among them, and the last time I walked out of that church I was following the pall bearers who were carrying my grandmother. My grandfather had preceded her in death and my mother never felt as if she could go back there and see their pew completely empty, so we didn't.

I miss that church and most of the people who spent all those Sundays with me worshiping the Lord. I can still hear them singing the verses of Just As I Am, always followed by a prayer to close the service, and I know that I am a better person for having gone to church there.

I don't go to church like I should anymore, but when I do I seldom hear the old hymns that I love, nor that kind of preaching. As for me, I'd rather hear The Old Rugged Cross, and see the preacher dabbing his brow with his white handkerchief after putting the fear of God into a few people who just might need it.

I guess it's just proof that eventually change comes to all things including churches, but I can't help but feel as if this particular change hasn't been such a good one.