HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1977-08-17, Page 2The gospel tent
isn't there for nothing, you know. All the
emotion was on the ground among the
people not up front. Why, that preacher
Jonathan Edwards didn't pace and race
around'at all. He didn't gesture. He, put his
left elbow on the pulpit and he preached
from his manuscript., Those nearsighted
eyes of his made him keep his nose pretty
close to the notes. But his words --the
impact of the worlds--carried his sizzle.
It was the sinner folk--squarely
convicted- -who ' shrieked —and moaned and
carried on.
But today all the carrying-ons go on up
front in the gospel, tent. The shouting. The
frowning. The fist clenching. The hand
banging."There's not a. drop of water
mercy in hell." The finger pointing. The
saved assurance. "I won't be there in hell,
but you' will be -- along with. Judas, Pilate
and Cain".
The people sit there in calm and take it
all. With scrubbed faces and clean clothes
and summer straw hats. Their faces move
nary a muscle; their brows betray no
furrows. Their fingers drum no
nervousness; their feet no shuffling.
But then,' maybe they're the saved
variety. All those hot licks belong to the
sinners who don't seem to be around.
These last few months I've spent some
timeiatnong the Jewish people and their
rabbis. I've always known their German
poet Heinrich Heine's well-known remark
a rather glib one I thought. On his death
bed he sa.id,'"God Will forgive nie. That's
his business."
" Only last week did I hear a rabbi reflect
the same feeling. "With God" he
shrugged, `Forgiveness is easy. God is
quick to forgive. He's not scrimpy with his
mercy".
The real problem is'with people, the
people around you. They're the
culpiits,They're the oneS who find it hard
to forgive. Their eyes arid their fingets
accuse you. TheirfaceS wear disappointed
looks. They'let you know' ou h aven't lived
up to _their high, expectations: It
people--not God-- who bring on the gnilt.
They burden you every day of your life.
I guess that's 'why I don't stay 104 in,
gospel-tents. The preacher man in the tan
may accuse. And heaven krioWs, I hoe
enough of my own built-in accusers inside
me. Let man accuse, I know I have a God
who won't refuse.
And he accepts me without an)
pre-conditions, tither:
All Hell's breaking loose in a gospel
tent.
You'd think that kind of preaching went
out with John the Baptist and Jonathon
Edwards. Remember hini? He's that old
New England preacher who dangled
people on,the edges of hell with sermons
like "Sinners in the HandS of an Angry
God".
I thought the churches didn't turn out
those kind of preachers anymore. I thought ."
all those preachers had folded up their
tents and moved away. I thought those
give-'em-hell preachers died out when the
circus folded.
But no. Tents are still sold. A few
circuses dostill make.it into town. They're
rare --true. But circuses do come to town.
And so does the gospel' tent.
I never quite figured out what's gospel
about those tents.. Gospel is supposed to
be good news. All. I hear from tents is the
bad -news -- the law. As I say, all hell
breaks foose in those places. It's a place to
preach "you loud out of hell and into
'heaven.
The preacher man roasts and toasts you
real good. He fries and simmers you and
gives you a real working over. Until at last,
you're done. Or is it done for? And you can
barely take it any more. YOU feel you want
to get out of there fast, before he finally
manages .to render you down into lard.
The, heaven he holds out-to you doesn't
look good anymore. Who wants 'to hang
around for an eternity with .a-God like that?
Forget it. One hour in a gospel tent is long
enough, for me. I can't appreciate a God
with those kind of hot .flashes and fiery
darts.
If I need some kind of image ,to
understand what- God's like, take the
Good Shepherd picture. Or the waiting
father in the story of the prodigal son. I'll
take the Jesus who stands at the door and
knocks -- gently.
I'll leave the "thunder and lightening to
Moses and Sinai. Besides, if I'm going to
heaven, its not because Of hell: I'm not
being seared stiff out of one place into
another,
re The' s something else I can't figure out
about gospel tents: Fire comes from the
pulPit, but it doesn't seem to burn the
peOtile. If the people were really listening
-- and believing all those godawful things,
they's writhe on the flOor and perish. 'in
anguish.
At least that's the way I understand the
old timers did it. The iirinie "holy rollerr
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WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 17, 1977
Serving Brussels and.the surrounding community.
Published each Wednesday afternoon' at Brussels, Ontario
by McLean Bros. Publishers, Limited.
Evelyn Kennedy'- Editor Dave Robb - Advertising
„Member ,Canadian' Community Newspaper Association and.
Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association *CNA
ABC
-' Subscriptions (in advance) Canada $8.00 a year. Others
$1:4.00 a year, Single Copies 20 cents each.
Busy, busy
Despite the fact that some of us seem to have been
emancipated from the work-ethic, we are, on the
whole, a busy, restless generation. We tend to
frantic busyness even in. our recreations and
hobbies. We like to be up-and-doing all the time.
Someone has said that whereas our great-grand-
fathers were content to spend two, weeks waiting if
they missed a stage-coach, today we fly into a rage if
we miss one section of a revolving door.
About the only thing many of us are not too busy
for is to tell others how terribly busy we are. We tend
to be like the fairies in the opening scene of the
Gilbert and Sullivan.light opera, lolarithe, who sing
in a sprightly manner,
"If you .ask the special funttion
Of our never-ceasing motion,
We reply without compunction
That we haven't any notion."
Many of us do seem to think that really to live is.to
move faster and faster. Why? "We haven't any
notion."
A few years ago a group of business executives
met for a conference at which they were to get away
from the day-to-day concerns of their work and
consider !'their general way of life in its widest
contexts. At the end of the conference they were
asked to present their conclusions in a simple
sentence. After much discussion they agreed on this
statement: "The nose to the `grindstone is "a useful,
necessary, and becoming posture for business, but
there is much more in life than can be seen from this
posture." That sentence should perhaps be on, a card
on the desk of every business and professional
person, all who suffer from what has come to be
called "hurry sickness" and whdfeel that new ideas
cannot be entertained without an appointment.
And as someone, laying violent hands on Kipling,
has Put it:
"If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
-You'll have the world and everything that's in
it
And a coronary before you're, fifty-one."
(The United Church)
04,
STIRRING THE CORN. jowl Cardiff was busy
Saturday night, booking corn for the big barbecue
and dance, sponsored by BrUSSeIS service' clubs, In
aid of the arena. .fUndo, George Mutter of the.
otganiiintl committee said the total amount the, event
.made foe the arena itti't known yet but :6 really gbijd,
crowd attended both the .barbecue' And. •dan-Ce., The
Ian Wilbee Orchestra donated their services for the
dance and Campbell and Cardiff catered for the beef'
dinner. 1PhOtb' by Lafigioity
by Karl Schuessler.
Roundingihe bend
Amen