Dad's Stories: Old Time Religion

GIVE ME THAT OLD TIME RELIGION (2004)

Growing up as a boy in Meridian was a delightful experience. Now that I’m older, I can truly appreciate some of the unique aspects to living in a small town like Meridian, Texas. It’s not just houses, buildings and things, it’s the people too. There were some very unique folks living in Meridian and some of them touched my life on a weekly basis. I don’t recall all the names, but their faces march across my memory to this day. It’s funny, but the images of their faces are as strong as ever. It’s an enjoyable experience to just sit and relive some of the wonderful stories that involved these lovely people. Of course, not everyone was lovely, but even the ones who were less than friendly or supportive also have a secure place in my memory.

One of the most unique structures in my home town, was the Town Tabernacle. This was an outdoor wooden building that was open on all sides, with a sloped roof to keep out the inclement weather and the hot summer sun. The structure wasn’t very useful in the winter, but let spring and summer come around and it was used for everything from special church services and revivals to town barbeques.



The building was located close to downtown and happened to be just across the street from my Uncle Artie’s house. I loved to sit on a bench in that old tabernacle and watch my parents and grandparents sing the good old songs like Beulah’s Land, Onward Christian Soldiers and Standing On The Promises. During our annual summer revival we would also have a “booster band.” This was a group of little children who often sang the wrong words, very loud and often off key to such favorites as Jesus Loves Me, I’ll Be Somewhere Working and Sunbeams For Jesus. I would join the group on command and sing until I was hoarse and then return triumphantly to sit with my family.

The Meridian Tabernacle had it’s own personality. The floor was composed of two-by-fours and a five inch layer of sand. The kids enjoyed going to a revival meetings… sit on a wooden bench and dig in the sand with your bare feet. Of course, every once in a while your exploring toes might turn up something that you quickly buried again! Light bulbs hung from long cords attached to two-by-four up above. There was no ceiling, so you could look straight up to the roof. As kids, we would often go down to the tabernacle and play. There wasn’t really that much to do or see… mainly just lying around on the benches and talking, as a cool breeze floated through the pavilion. Once in a while we’d eat a sandwich and drink some pop under the stage.

There were holes in the roof for most of the time I attended functions at the tabernacle. During Sunday morning services, the sun would cast small searchlight beams of sunlight down upon the worshipers. Most of the people would be covered with little dots of sunshine. It added to the personality of the place. In the front of the tabernacle was a raised platform set up for a small choir and speakers. All the benches and seats were made of ordinary boards.

The lights were plain old light bulbs dangling from the end of long cords swaying from two-by-fours up above. There was no ceiling, so you could look right up to the roof. To say that you had to fight the bugs and flying insects on summer nights would be an understatement. They would be flying and dive bombing the faithful all over the place. It was common courtesy to reach over and flick a bug off the person’s shoulder or neck sitting in front of you.

Out of deference to the guest preacher, we had a yellow “bug proof” light bulb hanging on a long cord over the pulpit. I’m thinking that we didn’t have yellow light bulbs throughout the tabernacle, because it would cast a weird glow on everyone and everything. Goodness knows, we didn’t want to look like a bunch of dingy worshippers.

I attended a meeting one time when a bug flew right in the mouth of a Baptist evangelist who was riled up and preaching hell fire and damnation and doing his best impression of Billy Sunday. My grandmother often said it would be a Baptist Preacher who’d get a bug in his mouth, because they always had them wide open and yelling about something.

On that particular hot summer night, the hand fans were flying and so were the bugs. Everyone was equipped with a Funeral Home fan, courtesy of Brister Funeral Home in Meridian, Texas. I never understood why they would advertise anywhere on anything, because, after all, they were the only funeral home in town. Most of the fans were adorned with a painting of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, they were very pretty and almost spiritual. Anyway, the preacher was yelling about his favorite sin and had his mouth wide open when a big June bug or miller flew right in his mouth and down his throat. His eyes grew wide and he gulped loudly and cried out UgggggHarumph! He immediately displayed the universal sign of choking, by grasping his neck with his hand and turning a dark red and then blue.

Our song leader, Cotton Dorman, who’d had first aid training as a volunteer fireman, jumped up to assist the distressed gentleman. The first thing you do in a situation like this is see if the victim is going to be able to “cough up” the offending creature on his own. Obviously, our traumatized “good news” preacher could not clear out the invader by his own efforts. Cotton, swung into action. He held the man by the shoulders and hollered, “Somebody get me some water!” Everyone looked at each other like, where’re we going to get water.

My Aunt Leila, stood up and said, “I’ll get some.” Now, Aunt Leila lived right across the street from the old tabernacle in Uncle Artie’s house. Up she sprang and trotted on her way. The rest of the congregation just sat and watched the life and death struggle taking place on the stage. Cotton tried to get the choking preacher to sit down, but he didn’t want to. It seemed he could cough better standing up and there was always the chance that he could “hack” the bug out.

It’s funny how one thing can remind you of another. For instance, watching the preacher struggle for every breath, I thought of the scripture that mentions that certain people easily swallow a camel and strain at a nat.” The intent of this scripture is that some people will believe a big lie and then struggle with the smallest morsel of truth. Anyway, I couldn’t help but think, “I’ll bet the preacher is glad that camels can’t fly!” I’m sure others in the audience thought they were watching Satan at his best, doing his worst. After all, there was no sense in the devil hanging around bars, when he could be choking evangelists in the town tabernacle!

By this time my Aunt had trotted back across the street with a big glass of water. She handed it to Cotton Dorman and he administered it to the preacher. You could tell by the look on the man’s face that the offending bug had finally been washed down. The victim stumbled over and knelt down by a chair on the stage and a couple of deacons joined him. I don’t know if he was praying or resting. By this time, probably praying for an early exit out of the tabernacle.

Cotton Dorman, took over and led us in at least twenty verses of Just As I Am, then we had the final prayer and dispersed. You had to believe the night’s revival was a success, because for sure one man had been snatched from the very jaws of death! We all left victorious. The last I saw of the poor evangelist was a couple of men helping him back to his car. I’m glad his family wasn’t there to see his terrible struggle for life that night.

Due to a lack of proper upkeep and the advent of air conditioning, the old town tabernacle fell into disuse and decay. It was finally torn down and the lot put up for sale. Today, there are a couple of homes where the old Tabernacle once stood, gone, but not forgotten.

The tabernacle had faithfully served the town since the nineteen-thirties and had been used by every church in the community at one time or another. As I mentioned earlier, the old building had a friendly, comfortable and secure feel about it and was well love by all. It’s a shame these lovely old institutions are gone forever.