When
I was a boy the Camp Meeting era was nearing its end. For many
years various denominations had taken their pulpits and saints
to the woods for a season of revival, living in tents, cooking,
eating and sleeping in shaded groves for several weeks.
Preaching services were held in what was known as brush arbors,
structures that were made from timbers and brush that were near
at hand. The arbors were open on all sides. Seating facilities
consisted of logs or of rough oak boards from some nearby
sawmill. Protection from the sun was afforded by brush that had
been laid across poles that used as a roof.
People
flocked to the camp meetings from far and near, some families
taking picnic dinners and suppers, others preparing their food
on the grounds. Some who went to scoff and have fun remained to
pray, for the preachers constantly warned their hearers to flee
from the wrath that was to overtake unrepentant sinners on
Judgment day, when sheep were to be separated from the goats.
Services continued through most of the day and well into the
night. People in the congregation spoke as the spirit moved
them, each service being punctuated with prayers, testimonials
and exhortations from men and women out in front. Only a very
hardened individual could fail to be humbled and impressed by
what he saw and heard. Many of our rural churches owed their
existence to converts that made in those camp meetings.
The
last to hold camp meetings in our county were the Holiness
people. In fact, the custom continues to linger with them. Every
summer, even in the living present, they hold a state convention
in the Mark Twain State Park 12 miles east of Paris. People come
from a dozen other states, as well as from all parts of
Missouri. They camp on the ground for three weeks. Except for
brief periods for cooking and eating, preaching services
continue from 10 in the morning until 10 at night. The general
public is invited, and many outsiders attend, some because of
spiritual interest, others out of curiosity.
Back
in the late eighties the Holiness people held a camp meeting at
Victor, 10 miles southeast of Paris. Among their converts was
Del Calhoon, the village blacksmith, who previously was more
disposed to scoff than to profess. With his conversion came an
intense disposition to do his share towards evangelizing the
regions round about. For many weeks he held Holiness meetings in
nearby towns and villages, amazing the public with his knowledge
of the Scriptures and his talents fro preaching. When it came to
giving reasons for the faith that was in him he never was at a
loss for Bible quotations with which to fortify his contention
that through repentance, faith and Godly living it was possible
to attain to perfection. After an absence of three or four
months the old blacksmith returned to his village. He found his
family in want and his business all gone. The next day his shop
was open and the anvil ringing merry tunes from his hammer.
Asked why he had gone back to work, Mr. Calhoon replied that
while he was out attending to the Lord’s business the Lord had
been neglecting his.
The
Holiness people were inconstant disfavor with what was known as
the more orthodox sects. Everybody agreed, however, that most of
them came about as near showing their faith by their works as
was humanly possible. When critics said it was impossible to
live perfect lives they retaliated by quoting the Savior’s
admonition: “Be ye perfect, even as I am perfect.”
In
those camp meetings, and in “protracted meetings” orthodox
sects held in houses of worship, what always had, and what
always will be recognized as the way of salvation—repentance
and a faith which manifests itself by good works—was stressed.
Revivals often were characterized by the testimonials of new
converts or by people who had been on the rolls for many years.
I
recall the case of Coleman Trussell, who professed conversion in
our Baptist church during one of those meetings. His family and
the Henning family lived on neighboring farms just west of town.
For
years there had been constant strife because of a piece of road
along their places. The morning after he became a professed
Chrisitan, Mr. Trussell went to the Henning home, expressed
regret over his part in the feud, begged forgiveness and
promised to be a better neighbor in the future. It was the
beginning of a beautiful friendship between the families and a
vindication of the Scripture which admonished converts to bring
forth fruits mete for repentance.
These
revival meetings would result in much personal work. Practically
every unconverted person in the community would be visited,
first and last, by members of the church or a minister, or both.
My mother, a very modest woman who insisted that a woman’s
place was in the home, always discarded this philosophy when a
revival meeting was in progress at her Church. Every day, after
the afternoon service, she would spend an hour or two talking
with unconverted people and pleading with them to turn from the
error of their ways. I believe that a comparison of results in
present day revivals with those of that day would vindicate
people who now claim that the only remedy for pews that are
empty because people won’t go to church is to go back to the
old custom of taking the Church to the people.
Source: When I Was a
Boy by Jack Blanton |