I've had some time to reflect on my ministries of years past as I prepare to embark on new ones...
... and it brings me to Clarksville, Georgia, where, as a Bible college student in 1980, I would pile into a car with a couple of other fellows and drive the few hours to this little town and help out a storefront church pastored by an engaging man named "Buzz."
We had after-church Sunday lunches that would beat any big-city buffet. I still remember the ham and the tall tales told by the patriarch of whichever clapboard home we were blessed to eat that sumptuous feast.
But the Sunday morning services still stick in my mind...
There couldn't have been more than 30 people in any service; 20 might be more like it. The floor was an uneven sloping bare wood construction. However, the intense joy and fervor for seeing the Lord's blessing was evident in each service. There was a lady in her 20s - I think her name was Cherry - who would sing at a moment's notice ("Cherry, some on up here and sing us a song...you know, that one about the resurrection?") without any instrument backup.
The church was a storefront; only one window air conditioner cooled the "sanctuary" and made hearing the preacher a challenge. Most men came in work jeans; ladies came in sundresses. I believe a few children were barefoot. A beehive was attached to the back window. But the deep love for Jesus in that little church was one memory that I still feel to this day. There were no programs or series of messages (not that programs or series are wrong, mind you) but a week-by-week outpouring of what God had done in the lives of the people in that little burg in northern Georgia in 1980.
Some things you'll always remember.
