Country Church

One Sunday morning, while in college, my roommate and I decided to go to a church I had found out about in the country. Most of the roads there were dirt and gravel. We took my roommate’s 1957 GMC Pickup Truck. This truck was all original and almost worn out, but it always got you there. The day was cold and clear, and the truck's heater was slow to warm the cab as we pulled into the small church’s parking lot, which was really where the grass had turned to dirt from cars and trucks parking there over the years. I noticed that, counting our truck, there were maybe 10 vehicles. There were a couple of dirt bikes, and to the side of the building was a small corral with three horses. We walked into the wood-framed building where your steps could be heard. Sunday school was almost finished in the small rooms at the back of the building, so there were only a few people in the sanctuary. We sat in the old, worn pew about halfway to the front, near one of the stained-glass windows. As Sunday school let out, the sanctuary slowly filled up. Up at the front was an old pump organ, and I noticed an older lady getting ready for today's service. Watching her reminded me of my mom at my home church, getting ready to play the organ.

The service started with a song. There were announcements after the opening song. I recall they recognized some kids for their accomplishments in the local 4-H club. A few more old hymns accompanied by the old pump organ, then the preacher came to the podium. I could tell this man had a close walk with God. He preached from the Bible with passion and knowledge. There was no watering down of the Word to make folks feel good about themselves, but a challenge to examine their own walk with God. At the end of the sermon, an invitation was given, and one of the young ladies who was part of the 4-H recognition came forward to give her life to Christ.

The drive back home was sunny and cold, but my heart was warmed by the church service we had attended.

This was back in 1982, not long before I graduated from college. I think back to that service and wonder about those fine people who made us feel at home as we came to worship with them at their small country church in the Ozark Mountains of Northwest Arkansas.