SERMONS
AND REFLECTIONS
Pleasantville
Camp Meeting
Carolyn
Sperl
former Hartford Seminary Librarian
March 23, 1998
I was born into a
Free Methodist home, in fact, the parsonage home of my grandparents.
So I became, in a sense a 4th generation Free Methodist.
Dad was a preacher too, he liked to call himself a "radical
holiness preacher". My early life was filled with tales of the
revivals which could continue for weeks or even months if the Spirit
was moving in an area. And stories of country "rowdies" who
would torment the faithful during service by beating on pans, pounding
against the sides of the church, shooting into a church, or most
exciting of all tossing a "polecat" into the church. We
loved to hear of lives changed from sin and despair to more noble and
purposeful ones. The price for "taking the way" was high.
Every once in a while I would ask my Great-grandmother to show me the
holes in her earlobes where she had once worn earrings, and we would
laugh together. Jewelry was now renounced completely for the plain
dress pleasing to God. B.T. Roberts, founding leader of Free Methodism
was particular that no jewelry or superfluous adornment was to be worn
by men or women. This included wedding bands. The Discipline, derived
from John Wesley's, listing the standards for clothing, behavior,
belief and worship was important and consulted. We were to live and
worship with great simplicity and concern for others, especially the
poor, unloved and unlovely.
As
the middle of the summer came, just about the time that the cicadas
and locusts began to whir, busy preparations began for going to camp
meeting, for going to Pleasantville. Great bundles of freshly ironed
clothes, perhaps even something new and all of Dad's white shirts,
hung in hangers all over the house ready to pack into the car for the
trip. Camp meeting lasted for 10 days. Camp was not casual; camp was
not recreational. Camp was sacred time and space; it was "Holy
Ground."
Going
to Pleasantville Camp Meeting was the very best thing. The grounds
were huge and fun to roam in. There were tall trees everywhere, deeper
woods to explore where we knew we could find wintergreen and pick
their sweet red berries and huckleberries. There was a funny pool in
the woods that had large goldfish swimming in it. We always had to
hurry to see if the goldfish were still there when we arrived. The
enormous, white "Tabernacle" stood at the lower end of the
central circle which was open but canopied with trees. Surrounding
this central space were rings of cottages, interspersed with wooden
tent platforms. These tent platforms were level and elevated more than
a foot from the ground, with steps up onto the platform. On the
outermost edge of the grounds a dining hall and dorm stood.
My
Father had built us a white cottage. Lots of our older family members
had cottages too. Camp was a time of reunion. It was for me a time of
continuity. Homes changed frequently for preachers kids in those days,
but our cottage was always there.
People
moved onto the grounds from all over the district and set up
housekeeping in tents or cottages, sometimes arriving late at night. I
had a look-out point to see those arriving for camp. Our cottage was
in the second ring, and the windows that ran beside my second floor
bed looked out over the main entrance to camp. Usually we would arrive
on Monday before the start of the camp meeting, as Dad was a leader of
the workers. There was so much preparation to be done - cleaning,
replacing tent platforms, and setting up tents. In the early days a
clean load of fresh straw was brought in so that campers could fill
their mattress ticks to sleep on in their tents. Tenters would begin
to retrieve their cots, chairs and tables from a great jumble covered
with a tarp in the back corner of the "Tabernacle."
Watching
from my bed I could see who was pulling onto the grounds with their
trailers piled high or their cars overstuffed. In the earliest times I
could see the ice man coming. The ice man fascinated me so much that I
would trail around after him as he delivered ice on the grounds. It
seemed so amazing that he could grasp a huge block of ice with
something that looked like big scissors using only one hand and thump
it into the ice boxes.
Now
Aunt Lottie's arrival caused the biggest stir on our side of camp. She
usually needed two truck loads to move her household to camp. She did
not have a cabin, but set up the most glorious tent complex you could
imagine. Two full size army type tents in a row, back to back. Her
tent platforms were double, and arranged like a long town house. An
extra open tent fly, as they were called was put in the back for her
kitchen. Husband, sons, or nephews unloaded "Turkey" and
Axminster carpets, cots, mirrors, tables, chairs, dressers, an ice box
and gas stove. And heaps of bedding and all sorts of accouterment for
comfy living.
Then
my Grandmothers, would come. Great-grandma Carrie and Grandma Viola.
Grandma kept a diary and let me read it sometimes. I helped Grandma
visit the sick and needy and pack big barrels for the missionaries.
When she came to camp, I could help by opening the window hatches to
let in fresh air, cleaning the leaves, twigs and spiders out the cold
cellar. This was really a large, deep crock set completely in the
ground covered by a heavy wooden lid that kept butter and milk cool.
Grandma always brought splint baskets of her early Transparent apples
for pies, her cookie containers were always stored in her wash stand
beside her bed. She always brought her own seat cushion to carry to
the service in the "Tabernacle." Wooden benches were hard
and Grandma liked to go to the morning services too. Grandma liked a
big bouquet of Queen Anne's Lace for the vase on the table under the
open stairs.
Soon,
I could walk around the grounds with my Grandma calling on other
family members and friends of her generation. "My how you have
grown this past year", and "Those braids are getting so long
and thick." While calling we would find out who had children and
grandchildren visiting camp this year. Pleasantville Camp Meeting
continued to draw the younger generation, even from great distances,
distances of miles or spiritual inclinations.
Come
Thursday night and the first evening service, Camp would be settling
into its routine. Some got up at dawn to pray. If you walked in the
woods in early morning you might hear one of the brothers loudly
storming heaven for a mighty outpouring of the Spirit on the meetings
or for "Holy Ghost Conviction" to fall heavily on those who
were lost. For grown ups there were three services a day in the
"Tabernacle". Children walked across the grounds, at the
sound of the first morning bell to the Helen Horning Hall for Bible
School. Stories of Miriam, who was so clever, and David, Samson, and
Moses filled our mornings. Missionaries visited and we made scrap
books of other countries. We had contests called "Sword
Drills", memorized our Psalms and verses. My Mother permitted us
to have our afternoons free to play, take a nap or read.
Every evening we
washed and changed for evening service. Lots of cars would arrive
bringing working husbands and fathers to stay overnight. Visitors
would arrive for the evangelistic evening message. At 7pm those
gathered in the "Tabernacle" began to sing the great hymns
of doctrine, assurance, victory, and praise with fervor and skill
unaccompanied by any instruments. Refrains were restarted over and
over again because the words had moved hearts. Voices might rise in
testimony and praise saying, "We Love you Precious Jesus"
accompanied by supporting voices of, "Thank you Jesus",
"Praise His Glorious Name", "You are Worthy."
Grandma sometimes lifted her arm in praise. People would stand
spontaneously, raise their hands, and weep, and give expression to
their emotions. Shouts of "Glory, Glory" or
"Victory" came from the assembly. A loud and hearty
exhortation could develop. Someone could rise to recite, from memory a
lengthy passage from the Bible. It could be that while no one was
watching, Aunt Lottie had slipped into a corner to the left of the
altar and was there "in the Spirit", moving silently in a
little circular dance. "Showers of Blessing" such as this
were a welcomed time of refreshing for the saints. These Blessings
from the Spirit would come spontaneously, because leadership
discouraged any working up of feelings but were in prayer, expectant
and careful to not quench the "Spirit." As children we liked
the excitement and the possibility that there would not be a long
sermon. In any case, children were free to sleep and many were soon
spread out on the benches to be picked up after the service and
bundled home. During the sermon people were responsive to the preacher
and a long and earnest "Altar Call" usually followed. The
saints were urged to fervent intercessory prayer for the spiritual
needs of those assembled. "Oh Lord, we are surely a needy
people." Praying sounds would rise. The sound was almost like
keening. The impact on the moment was awesome. Those concerned for the
condition of their souls, "under conviction", moved to the
"mourners bench." Anyone with any type of spiritual need or
unfinished business with Almighty God was admonished not wait, but
"Call on Him while He is near."
