The Church In The Wildwood

Some of my earliest memories center around the farm my family moved to after we moved from the place I was born in the Frankfort area of Franklin County in North Alabama. I do not know my exact age, but assume I must have been a toddler, perhaps three or four years old. The farm was located about half way between the small towns of Rogersville and Anderson. Anderson was located just South of the Tennessee border. The name of the farming community was Hurricane. I understood the name related to a severe storm that hit the area earlier. Although hurricanes out of the Gulf of Mexico did not normally have such severe effect, they often spawned high winds and days of rain accompanied by tornados. Our area of North Alabama was known as part of the infamous Tornado Alley.

There is an old gospel song entitled, "The Church In The Wildwood," that immediately comes to mind when I think of those bygone days. In my memory the lyrics of the song go something like this: "O come to the church in the wildwood, O come to the church in the dale, No place is so dear to my childhood, as the little brown church in the vale...." It was recorded and made popular by such artists as Andy Griffith, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Burl Ives and Dolly Parton.

My father was an Elder in the Cumberland Presbyterian Church located close by our place in Hurricane. In my mind’s, eye this church fits the description of the church described in the song. It sat at the end of a lane that ran a ways through the woods. It was a beautiful sight to see this little country church surrounded by the greenery of such a forest. I can especially remember the beauty of the dogwoods in bloom in the Springtime and the pleasure of sucking the sweet nectar from the blossoms of large poplar trees in the area.

The inside of the church also fit the image conjured up by the lyrics of the song. The old timber pews and pulpit must have been there for countless Sunday Sermons, Hymn Singing and Revival Meetings. The lighting was common for the period when many country folk were just beginning to get electricity’ through the Rural Electrification Program of the Tennessee Valley Authority. Oil lamp pedestals were located on the walls between the open windows. Oil lamps were lighted all around the walls in order to give just enough light to enable the hymns to be seen and sung.

My most vivid memory recalls the scene in the night services during the annual Revival Meeting. These meetings were the big event for the area and would last for at least a week and if there were unusual spiritual blessings, it could become what was called a "protracted meeting" and go on for weeks. The windows were open to provide some relief from the normal mid-Summer heat. Of course, this allowed flying insects free entry into the room. There was no insect repellent to deter the mosquitoes nor the moths.. Hand fans for cooling and fly swats for killing were the only defensive weapons. It was not unknown for a real energetic preacher to inhale or swallow a moth as he was making an important point.

The good country folks attending these meetings did not go in much for formalities or ceremony. Mothers with nursing children would openly dispense the necessary refreshments in order to quiet their hungry little ones. No fancy nursery was available . What was called quilt pallets would be spread on the floor for restless youngsters. I recall occupying such a pallet at times when the preacher elaborated at length on his message. There was a communal bucket of cold well water down in front of the pulpit with a dipper in it. Any thirsty person was free to saunter down the aisle and assuage their thirst any time they had the urge and many did.

It was in such a setting that I witnessed my first "shouting." The experience was a bit scary but I am sure the participants must have been quite sincere; even though looking back their actions do not seem to fit Paul’s admonition that everything should be done in decency and order and that God is not the author of confusion. It seems there has always been a tendency for some to confuse emotionality with spirituality. As if one who sits quietly contemplating the presence and blessings of God is somehow less spiritual than one who loudly demonstrates emotion.  - Pastor John White