My senior year at Harding, I was unleashed on two unsuspecting congregations: one in Alread (go to Clinton and then west on hwy 16 through beautiful Ozark hills), and then one in Sheridan.
Here’s what I remember about that year of preaching:
1. I’m glad no one was taping sermons then. I’m especially thankful there are no surviving MP3s for a podcast. (Note to anyone in Alread and Sheridan: if there are any surviving reel-to-reel copies, I’d be willing to buy them in order to destroy them.)
2. I loved the drive time. A beautiful blonde was sitting by my side every mile of the way.
3. Even if I didn’t feed the congregation well, they certainly fed us well! It was a nice break from the regular fare of Pattie Cobb cafeteria on the Harding campus. (Does anyone else remember eating there?) We’re talking home-grown vegies and large quantities of beef.
4. There was great joy in standing before the church speaking about things that matter. My life hadn’t caught up to the things I spoke about — it hasn’t yet! — and yet there was electricity in speaking words of faith and hope.
5. This tiny church (Alread) and small church (Sheridan) launched me with encouragement and compassion. How many churches are there out there — within driving distance of Abilene, Searcy, Oklahoma City, Lubbock, Henderson, Nashville, Malibu, etc.– that have graciously listened to people who knew way more about Greek and Hebrew than they yet knew about life? Blessed are the encouragers of the world.
There’s one in Colorado Springs that is still patient with it’s preacher… and I am very thankful.
Thanks for stirring up some old, but good memories.
Haven’t thought about “preacher boys” in some time. When I was coming along that’s what we were called, primarily in college–Freed-Hardeman. I also preached for two or three small churches as you described them. I remember the garbage can where I put several of those sermons.
However, these experiences were good for me. One of the lessons that I learned in those days was finding my own voice and as you, receiving great encouragement. So I lift up the Berea Church of Christ near Burnsville, Mississippi and the Ridgely Church of Christ in Ridgely, Tennessee for their help in my early formation.
Peace.
The church that has been most patient with me, and has helped me beyond belief came along 15 years into my “career.” It’s the church where I’ve been the last 14 years. Long Beach, CA. Wonderfully forgiving people.
I too remember those wonderful congregations and the trips from Michigan Christian and Freed-Hardeman and Abilene Christian to the small churches. Perhaps I remember most my senior year at a Mars Hill Bible School and driving every other Sunday to the home church of ZZPuck in Alabama and preaching. The other Sundays we (My first cousin and I– He led singing and I preached.) drove over the line to a small congregation in Mississippi. I remember the wonderful people with a simple faith, the great food, and the pretty young girls who though the young preacher and song leader were special!
Great post Mike! I would love to hear some of the stories you could tell from those days. Have you heard Donnie talk about being down at Griffithville? If you haven’t heard those stories, you will want to.
Thanks Bro!
DU
P.S. Puck, that Berea church is my mom’s home church growing up!
When I was a kid, they still had an outhouse.
I am so thankful for churches who are willing to give young ministers a chance and experience. Praise God for those churches! They are blessed!
Mike,
I heard an idea once (and it might have come from a book that your singing compatriot Randy Harris recommended [Letters to a Young Theologian], but possibly not) that no one under 35 should preach because they don’t have enough life experience to match their knowledge.
Obviously your experience is different from that, but do you think that idea holds any merit?
Phil Wilson
While I was in college at Oklahoma State (yes, at a heathen STATE school, not one of our fine bible colleges ;-), a tiny church in north Oklahoma was gracious enough to pay me to come preach twice a month for 2 1/2 years.
How tiny? We had 12 if my beautiful brunette from Nebraska was down for the weekend. And that meant we had an alto, too.
Those Sundays consisted of making the hour drive, teaching a class, preaching, pigging out on roast and potatos, taking a long nap, eating a snack, preaching one more time, and then driving the hour back to reality.
What a blessing those folks were to me.
I have very fond memories of those small places. The church pot lucks. Going to members’ homes for lunch. Standing outside between Bible class and Worship and talking to the men about their crops, the weather, and Razorback football until the brother with the slowest watch finally read 11:00…at which point all the guys spit out their Red Man and we walked back inside the building.
One of the things that surprised we was how open minded some of the people were…at least at the church where I preached. I could say things in some of the smaller places that would have gotten me in trouble in some larger churches. We always went to the Baptist revivals and they came to our “Gospel Meetings.” Once or twice a year, the community had a joint worship service with all denominations joining together. Apparently no one had bothered to tell them that they couldn’t do that.
The singing I could take or leave, but those brothers and sisters clearly understood faith, hope, love, hospitality, generosity and community. And they were so encouraging to a young man who was trying desperately to learn Eddie Cloer’s basic sermon pattern. And even when I struck out, they found a way to say “amen.”
I was at Pepper’s Lake church of Christ twice a month while at Harding. iI know how to get there, but still can’t really say where it is. somewhere past Des Arc. Great congregation and great people. They had two Bible students at a time to alternate. Great potlucks, fresh from the garden.
They also sang hymns-newer and older–off the wall with a projector, something you still don’t find in most rural churches.
Patty Cobb…what great memories.
I preached for 2 years at the Island Church of Christ, two miles outside of Newport. It was a great place to start preaching. There were 5 members, all over 80 years old. Three women, 2 men, one of the men, Crazy Bill, as he was call was illiterate. Great place to develop those preaching skills with the elderly…maybe that is why I have been a youth minister for almost 25 years!!
This post brings back fond memories of our experience with Hills Chapel in Nashville. It was out in the country then, but I’ve heard the city has caught up with it now.
John preached every Sunday, Mike led the singing (and we jokingly called him our associate pastor), and a handful of Lipscomb students showed up each week. I taught the children. Lots of times it was just one, but she was always there. The small congregation was all gray-headed, and I guess we were the youth group!
Phil, you’re probably thinking of Helmut Thielicke’s “A Little Exercise for Young Theologians.” He doesn’t prescribe a minimum age for preaching, but he counsels the young not to preach while they wait to understand the significance of the deposit of faith among the laity.
I don’t know how to take that advice in a denomination without mandatory seminary experience among its ordination requirements.
Jerry, when did you preach at Maud? What’s your last name?
David U, I had no idea your mom was a part of that church. When did she go there? I preached there two different times in the early 70’s and mid 70’s.
Mike, excuse the use of your blog for fraternizing!
Peace.
I preached in Ballinger while completing my M-div. It was a wonderful church–full of grace and committed to prayer. They opened up their homes to us, fed us well, and nurtured us spiritually. That church will always have a special place in my heart.
Pattie Cobb, yea, I dined there with a lovely young woman in the late seventies. She is now my wife, and, ironically, my daughter now lives in that dorm, and gets together with several friends every Friday evening to cook and share a meal in the basement lobby area that once was the cafeteria. Thus, another generation dining in Pattie Cobb.
Thielicke’s book is good–it teaches some much needed humility on the part of theological students; but based on some of the same reasoning, I received and heeded what I now regard to be misplaced advice. In grad school, I was told that we should recognize that, at that point, our study was our ministry–and therefore we didn’t need to be out preaching in little churches. I wish I had not heeded that advice. Now, after 13 years in Africa, I’m back in a wonderful small town and small church in West Texas — just where I need to be — learning to preach.
wow this hits home on SOOO many levels. Sunday I am preaching for the FIRST TIME in Concord, NH. I am nervous and feel like vomiting lol. Yet through it all I sit and wonder why me God.
Mike did you ever get that way? I wonder why me God, a man who still sins knowing the concepts of grace and you choose me to preach your word to your people. I feel very tiny.
I welcome ALL of you wise feedback to everyone who reads this, help me decrease so God will increase.
Overcup(Morrilton), Pineview(North of Searcy), and Alton, MO were the “drive out” congregations that supported this young bride and her “Boy Preacher”. Great food and great fellowship with down-to-earth, hard-working folks. I guess I haven’t thought about it before, but when I think, now, about how young and green we were I realize that those fine people were so gracious and patient in allowing us to serve with them for a short time. We learned so much. Plus, it was during these “drive outs” that I came to appreciate the amazing talent that is called Michael Card!
I have never commented on your blog before but I read it daily. Some days it is a source of inspiration and on others a source of frustration with our collective body of Christians. But we all have a right to express our thoughts as long as it is done with love and care/concern for our brothers and sisters.
Today I just couldn’t resist making a comment because I actually married one of the young men from Alread, Arkansas and in fact his family made up 1/2 the congregation you are referring to in today’s blog. I met him at HU and he is one of the good guys. I am lucky to have found him and hung onto him for 12+ yrs. He comes from a very devout Christian family albiet a little too conservative for me but they are sincere and knowledgeable. His whole family moved from Alread to Clinton approx 6 years ago and I will admit that I sometimes miss going to the tiny community of Alread.
For me it was a little church of about 60 in Lake County, TN, called Burris Chapel Church of Christ. I was a student at Freed and started preaching at Bu rris Chapel at the end of my freshman year. I drove there every Sunday for three years. Precious memories is an understatement. These country folks just loved me inspite of my awful preaching. I will forever remember two of the old ladies, Miss Jackson and Aunt Fannie. One was 93 when I started there and the other was 88. My girlfriend whom I later married went with me every week and we almost never missed an afternoon visit with those two ladies. They lived next door to each other and acted more like teenagers than old folks. They shared so many life experiences with us. They had both been widowed for many years, but in many ways they were our pre-marital counselors. I will never forget the Sunday I showed up to preach and heard the story of what Miss Jackson had done the night before. She slept with a loaded 38 pistol and on Saturday night she thought she had heard prowlers outside. She got her gun, opened the door and fired a shot in the air and proclaimed that she had five more where that came from! What those people lacked in theology they more than made up in love and encouragement. As I have read all the posts I have seen a common theme. Those of us lucky enough to preach at a loving and patient first church are still preaching. Too many of my friends did not have the same experience as me and most just quit preaching. One other thing about Miss Jackson and Aunt Fannie. They went every other Sunday to visit the “old folks” at the nursing home. Most of the people that I knew back then have gone to be with the Lord, but they left me and my wife with memories that have often helped sustain us through some very difficult times.
Here’s another category of church that has blessed my ministry richly: the small town California church that I grew up in, where I first preached as a young adolescent, where I learned to lead singing and offer prayer, and where the saints were always quick to affirm and slow to critisize (at least their own kids).
The love, encouragement, and mentoring I received there still impacts and blesses me.
Life is a journey. On this journey we have all committed detours, false starts, accidents, wrong readings of the map, road rage—just plain mistakes. I have. And yes, like the one who initiated this discussion, I want to buy and destroy any extant tapes, not only recordings of sermons I preached to rural churches in the 60s and 70s, but also recordings of any of the zillion other inexperienced comments and clumsy things I have made and done right up to the present hour.
“When I was a child, I spoke as a child.”
“All have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory.”
“By grace you are saved through faith.”
“All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags.”
We should learn from our mistakes and seek to draw nearer to God’s image. But, even after we have done all that we can do, we will still be “unprofitable servants.” We are by nature the children of Adam. All praise to God who in His grace wants to mold us from our raw clay into vessels fit for His kingdom and who at deep cost has provided for each of us a way. That He is a God of grace is as applicable to preachers as to everyone else.
As a great preacher indicated in Philippians 3, I have not yet attained God’s righteousness, have not yet been made perfect, but I’m pressing on.
May God in His grace be praised for forgiving us for the wrongs we have committed and for offering to draw us daily, with ever-increasing progress on the road of life, until we see Him face to face.
Mike, when I was a junior at Midwestern (Iowa) in 1967, I drove to Promise City (pop. 105) each Sunday and Wednesday to preach and teach at the Promise City Church of Christ. God love those folks for they sure loved me and put up with my feeble attempts to communicate God’s word. God bless ALL the little congregations who put up with us. One night it was so cold the heater went out on my ‘62 Corvair and I had to warm my nose with the car’s cigarette lighter (the only time it was used) and my ears with my wife’s sweater tied around my head. I must have looked like Jacob Marley arisen from the dead!
I was channel surfing Sat. night and caught a Billy Graham crusade from 1959. It almost seemed like I was watching/listening to a different preacher.
Word has it that a much, much younger Rick Atchley’s voice pitch would rise an octave with each sermon subpoint - and his final point was something similar to a dog whistle. One does wonder what a young Mike Cope sounded like.
My dad preached in MANY little outposts starting in the ’40’s with his twin brother. Two for the price of one. They’d trade off weeks. They also held meetings together down in Louisiana during their college years. Some of those people STILL send Daddy notes & Christmas cards. When I was real small, Daddy preached at Shallowater while working on his doctorate at Texas Tech. We all LOVED that congregation, & many of them keep in touch with Mom & Dad, & Dad went back & did several funerals until recently. Fond, fond memories of West Texans there!
When we moved to Searcy, Daddy preached in Steprock, Pangburn, & Sheridan(pre-Mike). As much as we girls wanted to stay at home & attend our congregation, I have to admit that I learned a whole lot about people from having to go with Daddy. I LOVE to look at his sermon outlines typed or handwritten from many, many years ago. Sweet, Sweet!
I posted recently on my days with the Spring Valley Church of Christ north of Searcy near Pangburn–out in the woods, no town of any kind or size! Soybean farmers and wonderful people. Sweet memories and lots of laughs!
I also remember the food at Harding for the one year I was not married! I also remember my fellow football players, Edd Eason and Jerry Cook positioning themselves by the dirty dish conveyor belt picking up half-eaten pieces of pie and begging young ladies for their end of month dining cards containing a few cents each! We ate in the American Heritage dining hall. Sundays were best and I remember consuming about half my food alotment for the week!
Thanks for making me go back there again, Mike. So much is different now, but some things don’t change in value and worth.
that would be marshall, mo. chillicothe, mo., and bonne terre, mo. for my husband Ron and me! bonne terre, was were i was thrown into the world of teaching ladies class on wednesday evenings in front of women that had 50+ years of learning on me. the best thing we have done on our 20+ years of ministry!
While Larry and other diners offered grace individually in American Heritage, the procedure in the Pattie Cobb Dining Hall was collective. Every quarter hour or so the grace-coordinator would hand the microphone to some young man in the queue and request him to “say grace.” The procedure worked without a hitch so long as the environment was small and the population predictable. But inevitably one day the microphone got passed to a newcomer unfamiliar with the modus operandi. He, on being asked to “say grace,” compliantly took the microphone and, somewhat visibly puzzled, said “grace”—nothing more, just the word “grace”—then looked around wondering why everyone was either mystified or laughing.
The church at Red Springs gave several of us a start. My wife and I raced the coyotes to Seymour on Sunday morning for a fifteen minute radio program. We stopped back at the Texaco station for my wife to finish her hair. Bible class at 10, assembly at 11, dinner at a rancher’s house, 5 o’clock youth group, assembly at 6 and a more leisurely drive back to Abilene. The Martin clan of Red Springs did as much to lead me to know what preaching was about than any professor. I will always be grateful for the small churches who allow men to become preachers - even if we didn’t know much.
That 1-hour road trip from College Station through Caldwell up SH36 to the Sand __?__ Church of Christ in Milano, TX, brings back winsome memories of homemade dewberry cobbler, hard wooden pews, hazy summer heat and an icy-cold Dr. Pepper on the way. And a shiny, new, pocket-sized NASB New Testament — now 20 years old, duct-taped and counting. And my old C-to-C pitch pipe, still in the desk drawer after all these years. And the drive home to A&M afterwards with the Texas Rangers on the radio and a heart swelling with gratitude for people who just want to hear the good news of Jesus, no matter how wet the preacher is behind his ears.
Thanks to all of you for taking me down memory lane for a bit. It was well worth it. G’night, everybody.
qb
In the mid to late 70’s I attended Freed. During that time a preacher from Memphis came to teach at Freed and preach at a small country church called Estes. Being from Memphis and growing up hearing this preacher on the radio on Sunday morning (It was a tradition at my house while getting ready for church) did not make me want to attend Estes. I was wondering why all the fuss. Why were all the students driving out to Estes. After a semester I gave it a try. Well, the next two and half years changed my life! Rubel Shelly had changed from a legalistic preacher to teacher who wasn’t afraid to admit he didn’t have all the answers. He taught my husband and me so many things about faith. By the time we graduated, that little country church had to build a new auditorium to hold the 800+ students who drove out to Estes every Sunday morning and night and Wednesday night. I am sure there are several people who read this blog who were apart of this situation. It was a beginning for many students in their “real” relationship with the Lord. Some of them are the voices we hear today calling us to stretch and grow our faith. Lord, thank you for that little country church in the little Tennessee community of Estes.
I’m surprised to be saying this (because it was rather embarrassing at the time), but my favorite memory of Pattie Cobb is standing next to the milk dispenser during Pledge Week and “moo”-ing every time someone got milk. I guess even sillyness can have significance.
I thought I would never get past being the “preacher boy” but somewhere along the line my hair got gray and I became one of the old guys. How did that happen?
A bunch of us from Knights went with you one Sunday to Alread. Those were good days.
From Abilene to Pilot Point, NE of Denton. I was the last student they allowed to preach, and I went into Youth Ministry.
I used to wash dishes in Pattie Cobb cafeteria. We used some soap suds and some iced tea to make trays of “Searcy Beer”. I ended up marrying a woman who at at the Bean at ACU when she was in college.
Mike, did you watch the documentary “Friends of God: A Road Trip With Alexandra Pelosi”, by Nancy Pelosi’s daughter?
Teresa,
I heard Rubel many times at Estes. Those were great times. I hated when he left.
I an surprised but pleased that all the liberal bloggers have nothing but kind words for these small conservative churches. I am originally from the Clinton, Ark. area.
If we’re all “liberal bloggers, then you must be Hillary.
I don’t understand that comment, David, but I almost fell out of my seat laughing at your 6:36 post.
In my 69 years upon this good earth I have both been a boy-preacher and listened to many others preach. I appreciate the modesty of you who have commented. We all know we were not very good and that we hopefully improved a bunch thru the years. We also, if honest, know that some of us just didn’t get that good, even with the experience of many years.
As one who heard Mike preach those months in Sheridan, I want to go on record as saying he was (is) the best student preacher I have ever listened to. Folks, he was just plain good at it.
This post was about those people in small churches that helped and blessed boy preachers along their way, so I add my voice to the refrain: bless you all for all the food prepared and served, for all the services you provided for so many, including the love and counseling.
Thank you for your patience with us as we learned, thinking we were teaching you when you were teaching us. Thank you all so very much!!! Thank you Mike for this oppurnity to remember, smile and be grateful. Doyce Hall
Thanks so much Mike for this site. I never start a day without visiting your posts. I hope you don’t mind my answering ZZPuck. I preached at Maud in 58-59 while a senior in High School. My grandfather, Martin Luther Burns, was one of the founding members of the congregation in 1900.
R. Scott Brunner has published a collection of essays call “Carryin’ On and Other Strange Things Southerners Do” Here is a sample from his essay on “Called to Preach” I strongly recommend this little book:
“It was one of the perils of being a post adolescent male in a rural church of Christ in the rural south: you were either a song leader or a preacher or both, of only for one solitary Sunday, and ability had absolutely nothing to do with it. As certain as Judgment Day, as avoidable as conscription, it was a preordained rite of passage by which an awkward, unwilling teenaged boy could actually experience true biblical suffering while at the same time inflicting it on the rest of the congregation, all in the name of cultivating the poor kid’s spiritual gift. …
I was scared to death I would get up there in front of the assembled saints; would launch into my little, little sermon; would get tongue tied, say something horribly wrong; and would, in short order cause a church split. It could happen. I knew congregations had split over less. …
In retrospect, what I also recall—surely with more fondness now than I felt at the time—was the undeniable affection and good wishes of the men and women who sat in those hard old pews that morning as I ascended into the pulpit…..Here were folk willing to suffer a foolish boy, willing to entertain the notion that such a worm as I could quite possibly grow into a mighty man of God. They believed that and I am a better man because of it.”
God bless the Oak Ridge Church of Christ, in rural Attala County, Mississippi. I’m glad most of them were hearing impaired and on medication. Maybe they didn’t hear or won’t remember.
The 12 member (but grew to 15) Luray Church of Christ in Luray TN. put up with me for 3 years. A friend went with me who was a finance major. He found out the congregation had some money saved up, but the building was starting to fall apart. Whistlin Joe Leslie was our song leader and treasurer. When he led “Leaning on the everlasting Arms” he would march up and down the aisle and flex his 80plus year old muscles and beat on his 80 plus year old song book to get us young folk excited. He would then stand around after church and pass out money from the plate to us college kids so we could go to Jackson and get something good to eat.
My friend Dave volunteered to help Mr Joe out and actually got us involved in some mission work, fixed up the building, replaced the heat and air, and fixed the plumbing. He also bought the church some new song books (songs of faith and praise). We also added a Wednesday night service that met in the home MRS Dawes across the street from the church. She was 90plus and dipped snuff during Bible study. That was a great church and I would not trade those times for any stiff shirt service I have been too. It was big change from Garnett Road where I grew up, but also pretty similar in some ways. The closest I could find at the time.
I am also grateful for the church in Ponca City, who gave a fresh-out-of-college, naive, SINGLE kid a chance when several other churches were looking for MARRIED, EXPERIENCED (5 years or more) youth ministers.
I was very blessed (after a stressful time of looking) that they took a chance on me.
Oh, and by the way, I am now MARRIED and EXPERIENCED in youth ministry! I am at another church now, but thankful that my first church family gave me a chance!
Even 20+ years later, I still fondly remember Spaghetti Thursdays at Pattie Cobb. Watery noodles, red “sauce”, and french bread soaked in butter. Yum!
Plus PC was the first place this Yankee ate rice with brown gravy. Never heard of it before, but certainly ate enough of it for a nice Freshman 15!
Thanks, Jerry. My Mom, two uncles and aunts still attend that church. Louis Ray Burns attends there now. Are you related to him? That’s the fun of bloging. Doing bloging within a blog.
Peace.
Teresa, your story gave me chill bumps. Some years after that time you were talking about, Rubel was preaching at Ashwood in Nashville (which is now Woodmont Hills). But back in the Ashwood days, there were still droves of students who flocked to hear Rubel every Sunday. He influenced us in the same ways he was influencing you all back then. I’m sure he continues to have a strong impact. Thank you for sharing your story!
I have enjoyed reading the comments about Rubel Shelly. Amy he is continuing to have a strong impact on young and old alike. His classes at Rochester College are filled with students who are blessed to learn about ministry from a man who is so passionate about pastoral ministry and service.
I was at Freed-Hardeman in the early to mid 80’s after Rubel left, but he was still kind enough to come back and stir things up from time to time!
As a result, he had a profound developmental impact on me and many of my friends, including my wife. Click here to read a post I wrote a couple of years back about one particular event of the “Rubellion.”
And I will always thank God for the Church of Christ in my hometown of Opp, Alabama. I can’t imagine who’d I be today without them.
Pattie Cobb - yes, I remember. Peanut butter and honey sandwiches on Sunday night after church. And green beans. Lots of green beans. (Not with the pb & h sandwiches, thankfully, but with pretty much everything else.) It was years before I could face eating another one.
Your comment: “How many churches are there out there…that have graciously listened to people who knew way more about Greek and Hebrew than they yet knew about life?” What’s amazing (and terrible) to me is that so many preachers who are WAY past their youthful days of being “preacher-boys” still know more about Hebrew & Greek than they do about life. What have they been doing all these years? Have they ever ventured beyond the church office? Sometimes I am so hungry for God I don’t know what to do. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anything at church that connected to real life. I wish preachers were required to take sabbaticals - not to go study somewhere, but to get the kind of job the rest of us have. Maybe then they would have something to say to us. As it is, they don’t have a lot of credibility with regular people. I’m not trying to be unkind. Most preachers I’ve known are good people, kind, stable, moral, polite, responsible, disciplined, etc. But there’s a disconnect between what I hear at church and what I deal with every day in my life, in my work, in my relationships. I need to hear about how to see my life through the eyes of Jesus.
CLARIFICATION FOR CHRIS, WITH CORRIGENDA ON THREE MESSAGES
In my 10:16 PM post yestreen, I meant that we’re not all “liberals,” a word Chris had used in a 10:05 PM post. Even though I’ve moved into town and continue to learn on the journey of life, I still favor truth upheld and error exposed. See, e.g., my feeble attempts at preachermike.com postings on March 17 and April 12, 2006.
So I am no more “liberal” than Chris is “Hillary.” The inspiration for that apparently unintelligible statement was Chris’ 10:05 PM admission of being from “Clinton, Ark.”
But, to set aside comments on producing “Searcy beer” and “saying grace,” let us in all solemnity observe that “near the foothills of the Ozarks, amid the hill and plain,” the Pattie Cobb Dining Hall is forever enshrined in our memory as “THE COBB.” Yes, yes, and as such the corn continues to be served, even on this blog. So
“Sing the chorus, shout it loudly, echoing through the vale.
Hail to thee, beloved Haaaaardiiiiiing! Alma Mater Hail!”
=============================================
Chris on January 25 at 10:05 PM: I am surprised but pleased that all the liberal bloggers have nothing but kind words for these small conservative churches. I am originally from the Clinton, Ark., area.
David Ramsey (c’est moi, Dudes) at 10:16 PM: If we’re all “liberal” bloggers, then you must be Hillary.
Chris at 11:57 PM: I don’t understand that comment, David, but I almost fell out of my seat laughing at your 6:36 post.
Peanut butter and honey sandwitches? I always wondered what that was. Don’t forget the candy bar on Sunday night.
Theresa, you must have been at Freed at the same time I was. I attended 1973 to 1977.
Peace.
Green Beans with every meal…But you could sit and drink coffee and talk
forever ….the first starbucks…that Pattie Cobb….Harding 1973…..
amen, mike..”blessed are the encouragers of the world”..sometimes they are the unsuspecting and that’s what makes them so precious..
Well, one more time…”a blog within a blog”…
ZZPuck, yes Earl Ray is my cousin. I do know your mom, aunts and uncles.
I spoke at the Burns Family Reunion at Maud in 2000, 01, and 02.
Oh, those gracious souls at the Griffithville Church of Christ! Steve Meeks and preached there during our Harding Days. Mike - you’re lucky, because some of my sermons were recorded! Thanks for bringing back good memories of those saints. I hope that our congregations are training grounds for young men and women as they grow toward what they will be!