JEFFERSONVILLE —
The Bible says to remember the Sabbath to keep it holy. To be “holy” is to be exalted or worthy of complete devotion as one perfect in goodness and righteousness. My goodness, that’s asking a lot. When I was growing up, we tried keeping the Sabbath as holy as we could, but you know how weak the flesh is. Will power is even weaker and perhaps the mind is the weakest of them all.
Maybe God expects too much from us. Keeping five commandments should be sufficient. The government got into the commandment business, too, but people rebelled, particularly against heavy-laden taxes. God required 10 percent, while Republicans get by with five. Democrats jumped to 40 percent, robbing the rich to feed and clothe the poor. The Bible is full of poor people, and it also says that a rich man is like a camel trying to squeeze through the eye of a needle. Take heed when you vote, and pray for Congress if you think it will do any good.
Back in the old days when Saturday night was the Devil’s Night and maybe you strayed, the Sabbath was the day set aside to repent. When you think about God’s weekly plan, it works quite well. After six days of hard work, all you had to do was go to church on Sunday, eat a big dinner and then rest. Is keeping only one day holy out of seven too much to ask? Some of our neighbors, however, racked up so many sins during the six days they needed more than one day to repent.
In the old days the little towns and rural areas across America, the churches were a vital part of our lives. They were sacred places where we received moral instruction and guidance. The Sabbath was a day of rest, reverence and worship, or supposed to be. Churches also served as social centers, places where people met, talked and spread, not only the good news, but the latest about Sister Sally’s ailments and Brother Charley’s corn crop. When the church bells rang, stores closed. That all changed when Wal-Mart bells began ringing to a different sermon.
Each town had a few churches — Baptist, Methodist, etc., and these churches were something like banks, where you saved money. Your church was where you saved and revitalized your soul, and once you saved it, you had to continue building up cash, so to speak. If you happened to back slide, your soul underwent a recession. Therefore, a good Christian went to Sunday school and the preaching service on Sunday mornings, then back to the evening service that night and to Bible study and a prayer meeting on a mid-week night. Give preachers credit. They were like insurance agents always selling policies to protect you from fire, floods and death. Actually, a death policy leaves your family with a lump sum, but a good preacher explained that tithing insured you against eternal fire, if you gave 11 percent for good measure.
No matter how righteous you were, it was necessary to be revived once a year. During the revival at the Short Creek Baptist Church, we’d gather each night for a week or two and get in a kind of nervous mood, wondering if we were worthy to enter the next kingdom. We’d begin by singing the “Old Rugged Cross” and other sad hymns, with prayer in between. When the preacher fired up, he’d plead for all those who were lost, or had strayed too far back, to walk down the aisle. That’s all you had to do — walk down the aisle, confess and then profess with a simple, “I do.” That was it, except baptism later in Short Creek when the water warmed.
Life is simply walking down an aisle a couple of times, one to salvation and another when you wed. What’s complicated about saying twice to a preacher, “I do?” You get a heaven up yonder and one here on earth with a spouse, who also may need reviving maybe twice a year. You go down an aisle one last time when they roll your remains to a burial site in a churchyard. That’s why you should be wary of ever saying, “I don’t.”
The little churches aren’t what they used to be, places of spiritual fellowship that united the communities with the spirit. It could get lonely on the farm or at work, but you were never lonesome at church one day each week, singing the praises loud and clear.
Contact Terry Cummins at TLCTLC@AOL.com.
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CUMMINS: Where did the Sabbath day go?
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