Month: June 2016

Good morning, y’all. It’s another hot one here in the mountains. We were thinking about a trip down to the Georgia coast to see if we could get a little breeze mixed in with our sweltering air. It doesn’t look like our busy schedule is going to permit a trip at this time. Bad weather is being promised for Tuesday, and I’m looking forward to it. Sounds funny, looking forward to something referred to as bad.

Things looking bad leads us back into our retelling of the history of the Little Church in the Valley. Elder Cheatum started his walk around promptly at 4PM on the fourth day of Summer Revival 2010. The Pepsi Cola routeman had indeed gone back to town and brought a second load of co2 and syrup for the tagalong trailer that served as the church’s drink concession booth. Elder Cheatum walked past the “fruit bowl” concession to see the Ladies Auxillary wrapping rubber bands around the outside of the fruit cups, creating a tight seal of the Saran wrap to the Pepsi Cola cups. The cups were placed on the bottom of the washtubs and the first layer of ice was poured in. Another layer of fruit cups were placed in the washtubs, and then covered in ice. Hopefully the rubber bands would prevent the seepage of previous nights.

Elder Cheatum moved to the T-shirt concession to see the new girl, Lavonia, he thought her name was, applying face paint to a little girl. Curious, the Elder moved closer for a look. On one cheek, Lavonia had painted a cross with a golden halo outline. On the other cheek, Lavonia had blacked the cheek to use white paint to paint “Jesus loves me”.

“Impressive”, the Elder commented, “how much are you charging?”.

“Three dollars a cheek”, Lavonia replied, “two cheeks for five dollars.” “I think I can do about fifty cheeks an hour, if the conditions are right.” “This is my niece, April, she’s going to be my walking billboard.”

“Pleased to meet you April”, the Elder said before turning back to Lavonia. “I think your production estimate might be a little enthusiastic,  I can think of some pretty long Bible verses.”

“Oh, my yes”, giggled Lavonia, “the  customers are limited to four words, so they can be like, ‘Jesus loves me’,’Pray continuously’ or such, or they can be the Bible verse, like ‘John 3:16.'” “That way a bigger message can be delivered in a smaller space.””What do you think?”

“I think that’s brilliant, Lavonia, we are blessed to have you join us.”

The happy feeling was broken by the roaring of the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone’s Cadillac Escallades returning to the parking lot. The Cadillacs pulled up next to the tour bus and the group poured out and rushed into the bus. Never being one to put off difficult tasks, Elder Cheatum walked in the direction of the tour bus. The Elder knocked on the door of the tour bus and was greeted by one of Hap’s burly security guards.

“I need to see the Right Reverend”, the Elder said.

“He is indisposed”, the guard said and began to close the door.

“I have the Reverend’s fee, and I need to get his signature.” Elder Diggum replied. The guard turned around to get further instructions from inside the bus. The guard left just enough space in the doorway for the Elder to slip through, and the Elder took his chance. With the speed of a mongoose, there he was, in the inner sanctum of the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone. As his eyes adjusted to the dim of the bus, the Elder could make out the Right Reverend stretched out in a Barcalounger, covered more or less, in a white silk robe. What the Elder could see of Hap’s exposed skin made the Elder recoil. The rash was on every exposed portion of the Right Reverend’s skin. The rash now had little pustules rising up like tiny mountain ranges on the terrain of Hap’s body. The Elder had seen some ugly things in his line of work, but this was right up there.

“There’s no way you can work like that,” the Elder began, “we’re going to have to juggle the schedule to continue without you.”

“Like Hell you are!”, Hap Johnstone said as he slid out of the Baracalounger to a standing position. “I’ve preached with a temperature of 105 degrees and more broken bones than I can remember”, “Only the Good Lord himself will take me out of a lineup!” Hap pressed his nose to within an inch of the Elder’s, “Are we clear on that?” Hap hissed. The Elder backed up a step, more out of fear of the contagion than a fear of Hap himself.

“Hap, I don’t know if you’re thinking clearly on the matter, have you looked in a mirror?”

“Looked in a mirror, looked in a mirror, Hell’s bells I’m living in this skin, do you not think I’ve noticed something is wrong?”, Hap replied.

“Well, have you been to a doctor?” the Elder continued, “I can refer you to someone in the area if you like.”

“I’ve just come back from one of y’all’s quacks, a lot he knew.”

“Well, what did he say?”, the Elder inquired.

“He said I’m having an allergic reaction, and that I need to change my habits just a bit.”

The answer posed more question for the Elder than he planned on sticking around to have answered. “How do you plan on going on tonight?, the Elder asked, “How do you not make people feel like they’re going to get something from you that’s worse than what they’ve already got?” “For a ‘healer’, I gotta say, you’re not looking very good.” “In fact, the tribulations of Job come to mind.”

“Don’t you worry about my tribulations”, Hap sneered, “I’m going on tonight if it hairlips the Pope!” “Now give me my fee, let me sign that little book of yours, and get out of here so I can prepare for the best show ever.”

The Elder handed over the fee and the ledger and Hap signed with a flourish and pushed the book back at the Elder. “Now, give me my space, I’ve got to start getting ready.”

“Ok, Hap, but one complaint, just one, and you’re done.” “Also, we’ll keep your share of the collections tonight to offset any other loses we might incur due to your inability to live up to your contract.” Before Hap could respond, the Elder slipped out of the door and headed back to the rectory. The committee needed an update on this last development.

Good morning, y’all. Hillary is the nominee, Bernie won’t let go, and Will Rogers old saying is being played out in primetime. “I am not a member of any organized party — I am a Democrat.”, Will Rogers used to say. And that’s the beauty of it, the Democrats have a wide diversity of groups, ideas and philosophies that come together under the big tent that is the Democratic party.

Speaking of big tents bring us back to the retelling of the history of the Little Church in the Valley. It is day four of Summer Revival 2010, and Elder Diggum has just entered the rectory to join the committee meeting going on inside. The voices are louder than usual, and his partner, Elder Cheatum, is describing his experience in Tent number one from the night before.

“Well let me just say this, I don’t care if we can get Brighton Early for a dollar a week and a plate of fried chicken, he’s not the one for  us.” “I didn’t understand half of what he was saying, and it wasn’t while he was speaking in tongues, in fact, I don’t recall if he was taken over by the spirit or not.” “I just remember he kept talking about “being in the Matrix”, whatever that is, and comparing it to being in the “corporeal plane”. ” In my opinion, it’s way too Early, for the Reverend Early.” Elder Cheatum looked about the kitchen table for responses to his pun. He was delighted to hear a few “good ones” from the collected group.

Elder Cheatum continued on with his report and voiced his concerns about their headliner, the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone. “I’m telling you, he was as red as a beet when he left the stage last night.” “I don’t know what that scratching is all about, if it’s contagious or not.” “If it is contagious, we’ll be laughed right out of the mountains.” “Can you hear it now, ‘Healer infects hundreds, News at 11?'” “My Lord, it’s bad enough the man can’t handle a garden snake as well as any Nunsuch six year old, he even dropped the snake last night.” “He wasn’t bit or nothin’, he just dropped it!”, “If his security hadn’t of pounced on it, the snake might have gotten into the crowd and Hap’s little secret would have been out.” “I think we’ve got a real problem here.”

“Now, now, let’s not get ourselves too caught up in the moment”, said Reverend Daniel as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Hap’s still drawing people to the tent like it’s the first night, and his altar call still has them packed in the aisles.”, “We’re half done, let’s reach out to the Right Reverend and see if we can offer him any further assistance.” “Maybe he just needs a dose of salts.” “He can use the bathtub here in the rectory if that fancy tour bus doesn’t have one.” “Elder Cheatum, why don’t you suggest it when you take him his share of yesterday’s gate?”, “Speaking of which, madame treasurer, how are we doing?”

Mulva Lite began to gave her complete report. Collections for night three of the revival were six thousand and eight hundred and eighty dollars . The uptick in the collection plates had come from Tent number three, with the other two tents holding even from previous nights. After paying all of the ministers their share, including the exorbitant fee going to Hap Johnstone, the net to the Little Church in the Valley was thirty seven hundred dollars and some change. Treasurer Lite explained that larger collections from a tent where they were only paying a five percent fee made a big difference.

Mulva was almost gleeful when she reported that the concessions had gone over the ten thousand dollar mark for the first time ever. The net profit was hanging close to the seventy five percent mark. Treasurer Lite also brought in a piece of new business for the committee. Since the Ladies Auxillary were serving fruit cups, Ben Waller, Granny Waller’s great grandson, had offered to take all of the food scraps from the revival for his pigs. He would in turn give a butchered hog to the church for the Summer picnic. Mulva felt it was a win-win and had closed the deal without consultation. There was a moment of anxiety for Mulva as she watched the faces of the collected menfolk to see if she had made a good decision or not.

Finally Reverend Daniel spoke up and said, “That’s a right fine idea, Mulva, we need more thinking where we can use one problem to fix another one.”

The rest of the committee smiled their approval and Mulva forged ahead with her report. The care and feeding of the Hap T. Johnstone entourage was more than expected, but if all trends held true, the week’s profits could clear fifty thousand dollars. The use of volunteered labor was a big savings, and Treasurer Lite felt that there should be a program setup for the soliciting of items from local merchants to support the efforts of the Little Church in the Valley. Items that were going to be tossed out in local eateries could certainly be re-purposed for the glory of the Lord. The committee looked at one another and then Reverend Daniel thanked Mulva for her report.

There being no further business, the committee set about devouring the fried catfish and hush puppies placed before them by the Ladies Auxillary. The committee had the good fortune to sample the evening meal provided the revival ministers and their assorted entourages at the committee’s lunch hour. Lunch for the visitors had been confined to soups, stews, salads and sandwiches. The contract had called for three hot meals a day, and the Ladies Auxillary were living up to their end of the bargain. While there had been no mention of haute cuisine in the contract, the Ladies felt like some of their diners were being a little hyper critical of the simple fare. Most of the Ladies were having trouble getting home in time to prepare dinner for their own families, who would have been proud to be eating as well as the folks at the revival.

Lunch being finished, the committee thanked the Ladies and retired to the front porch to sip on sweet tea and rock a bit. Elder Cheatum was headed to Hap Johnstone’s tour bus with Hap’s share of the daily take when the Cadillac Escalades pulled out of their spaces and headed for the highway. Waving the envelope with the money inside, Elder Cheatum flagged down the Escalade holding Hap Johnstone and his secretary. Ms. Leer reached out her hand for the envelope, and Elder Cheatum handed her the envelope and the ledger for signature. Elder Cheatum leaned in to the car and told Hap, “We need to talk”.

Hap pushed the ledger back at the Elder with a “later”, and then, the power window was closed. Elder Cheatum noticed that the bare hand extended by Hap was covered with a rash looking like prickly heat. Seeing the evidence of one of his concerns provided the Elder with the perfect opening to confront the Right Reverend. The rash was but one of the issues that was troubling the committee. But, with a screech of tires, Hap was gone. Confrontation would have to wait until Hap returned. Hopefully, he would return.

Elder Cheatum headed back to the front porch to rock awhile, while cogitating on what to do.

Good morning, y’all. It’s hotter than I ever remember it being for this time of year. Of course my memory fades, and I don’t look upon hot days as favorable. My desire to forget hot days would outweigh my desire to remember them. That’s how memory works, we try to forget the bad, and reinforce the good. Some would call that a product of evolution, but I don’t want to give my neighbors another reason to distrust me.

Speaking of distrust leads us right back into the retelling of the history of the Little Church in the Valley. As day four begins on Summer Revival 2010, Elder Diggum bends to pick up a Pepsi Cola fruit cup from the ground. Gingerly, he carries it to the nearest trash barrel for disposal. He remarks to himself, “five feet, they couldn’t have made it another five feet”, as he places the cup in the receptacle. The Elder walked towards the fruit bowl booth to discuss the matter with Constance Winer. As much as he wanted to get feedback on the “fruit bowls”, he also wanted to find something to get the sticky off of his hands.

“What do you think, Constance, is it worth the headache?”, he asked as he pulled multiple baby wipes from the box to cleanse his hands. Constance paused from filling the shelves under the counter with Pepsi Cola cups, and looked at the Elder.

“Well, I’ve got nothin’ official, but we spent about a hundred dollars on fruit, and I think we had close to eight hundred dollars in the til last night when we closed.” ,”I like those numbers, how about you?” Constance said as she smiled at the Elder.

Elder Diggum liked the numbers indeed, and he told Constance so. “I’m wondering about the spoilage and the stuff the folks are throwing away.” “What are we doing about that?”, he asked.

Constance rolled back the right sleeve of her dress to reveal an arm covered in rubber bands. “We figured a way to seal the cups so the water doesn’t seep under the Saran wrap and get into the cup.” “It’s going to cut into our profit a little bit, but not so much as to notice it.” “The last cup of the night should be as fresh as the first one after we wrap it tight with the rubber band”.

“Mountain ingenuity “, Elder Diggum thought as he gave Constance a side hug, and moved on. The Pepsi Cola pickup truck was at the pullalong trailer set up for drink concessions. The route man was stacking canisters of co2 and syrup wherever he could find space. The Pepsi man nodded at Elder Diggum as he approached and wiped his hands on his shirt before extending his right hand. “Elder Diggum, how are you this fine morning?”

“Fine, Buck, how are you?” Elder Diggum did not know the man, Buck’s name was stenciled on his shirt. Buck took half a beat and responded, “Well I’m thinking about going back to town and bringing out another load. I think you’ve got enough to hold you until tomorrow, but I don’t want you to run out”.

“Well, you do whatever you think is best, Buck, you’re the expert.” The praise emboldened the young route man, and he forged ahead. “I was thinking, sir, you all are our number one customer right now, and I was thinking that we could help each other out a little bit if you were interested.”

“What are you thinking Buck?”

“Well I’m thinking I could bring back a load of T-shirts and hats that we could give away to folks that come to the Pepsi booth.” “It’d be a memento for folks to remember that they drank Pepsi Cola at the revival”.

“And why would we want to do that, Buck?” Elder Diggum said as he poured himself a Mountain Dew. “I told your boss when we set this trailer up, if you want to donate blank T-shirts and hats, or even T-shirts and hats that say “Provided by Pepsi Cola” on the label, I’m all for it.”, “This revival ain’t about Pepsi Cola, it’s about the Lord, and if you all can’t get behind that, then you need to hitch this little wagon back to your pickup truck and get on out of here!” 

The Elder’s voice was much rougher than his true feelings were, he just needed to maintain his advantage while he could. If people started preferring Pepsi to Coca Cola, the Little Church in the Valley would lose their bargaining position. “Call your boss, Buck, if you figure it’s something you need to do.” “Let me know if you’re pulling out so we can make other arrangements. It’s hot and the people have got to have something to drink.”

Buck responded, “No sir, no sir, no need to call, I was just thinking we might help each other out, but I take your point, this revival is about the Lord. ” “I’ll just go back to town and bring out another load to make sure you don’t run out, it’s going to be a hot one today.”

Elder Diggum smiled at Buck and said, “Bless you Buck, we really appreciate your dedication.” “You  know, you should drop by tonight, you might find some answers to the questions we all have.” “I’ll see to it that you get a seat in the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone’s tent, he’s world famous you know.” With that, the Elder moved on. Buck opened his mouth to explain that he was Seventh Day Adventist, but the Elder was already at his next stop.

The Ladies Auxillary at the T-shirt booth were unpacking stock from the cardboard boxes stacked up behind them. Before he could ask, the Lady in charge responded, “We’re running out of the XXL and XXXL”. The Elder shook his head. If anyone wanted to survey America’s battle with obesity they could come to the Summer Revivals. Elder Diggum recalled when “Medium” was truly the medium size. Now it seemed like “XL” was the most popular size, for men and women. Maybe the women were using the larger T-shirts as nightshirts, but from the size of some of the female worshipers, he doubted it. Elder Diggum looked at the volunteer and asked, “How’s the new painter working out?”

“Real good, she took right to it”, “She even had the idea that we could setup an area to do nails and face painting.” “You know, signs of the cross, Bible verses and such, nothing that would take a lot of time”.  Annie Howe continued, “And you know what, Ephram’s carpal whatever seems to have gotten a lot better.” Elder Diggum chuckled inwardly, this wasn’t the first time he had effected a “healing” by threatening the afflicted with a little competition. “Well, it sounds like you ladies have got everything under control, keep up the good work”. The Ladies smiled, the Elder smiled, and then the Elder moved on to the snack concession.

The Ladies in Waiting had just returned from the Walmart in Blairsville with a full Ford Econoline of snacks and treats. “What a friend we have in the Walton family”, the Elder thought as he surveyed the plunder from the most recent restocking trip. To be able to purchase goods for resale at an almost wholesale price was truly a blessing for the twice a year events. The variety was unparalleled, as was the convenience. The fact that a few local shopkeepers had lost their family businesses to the big box chain was not a concern to the Elder. His profession was safe guarded, that is until Walmart started displaying coffins. Thank Goodness, Elder Diggum had the Georgia Funeral Director’s Association protecting him from any incursions into his livelihood.

Satisfied that the Ladies Auxillary was on top of things, the Elder headed for the rectory for the committee meeting.

Good morning, y’all. A bit of the tropical storm has been kind enough to drop some moisture on our area. I don’t know if the rain or the laser like heat has brought on my Gardenias, but they are in full bloom. Just like that, go to bed and they’re all green, wake up and they’re practically all white. Mulva appreciates their odor very much. I do not. I remember an experience with the perfume “Jungle Gardenia” which does not bear repeating in mixed company.

What does bear repeating is the story of the Little Church in the Valley. When we had left our story, it is night three of Summer Revival 2010. The Reverend Brighton Early has just finished in Tent number one, and the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone is striding up to the pulpit. With a shrug of Right Reverend Johnstone’s shoulders, the piano player begins the first few notes of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”. Hap and the Heavenly Hummingbirds join in and Hap strides back and forth exalting the congregation to join in. 

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.“

Elder Cheatum noticed that the Right Reverend’s face seemed redder tonight than in previous encounters. It was true that Hap was really working the crowd during the hymn, but the Right Reverend’s color was visibly different. Since Elder Cheatum was in the last row of the tent, he was not close enough for a diagnosis. The Elder made a mental note to talk to Hap personally before the night ended.

Hap strode back to the pulpit just as the song ended. He straightened the knot on his Burberry London Manstron stripe silk tie and leaned forward into the microphone. “Mine eyes – have seen – the coming – of the Lord”. “Praise God!”  Hap then proceeded to launch into his night three sermon entitled, “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”. For the next ten minutes the Right Reverend likened the earthly plane to a battlefield that had to be won before claiming victory in Heaven. As usual, Hap broke into speaking tongues at the ten minute mark. On this night, however, Hap wandered from the pulpit as he worked through his bout of glossolalia. The Right Reverend wandered towards the back of the stage and appeared to be scratching his chest and neck while shouting out in the voices of the ancients. Eventually, Hap returned to the pulpit, and settled into the next part of his sermon.

For the next twenty minutes Hap pleaded with the congregation to be Christian Soldiers, fighting sin and inequity wherever they may find it. “Do not shy away from the fight if the fight is just!” Hap entreated. “Do not let the Atheists and gays and New World Orderers take the hill of Calvary without a fight!” The Right Reverend punctuated every charge to the crowd with a pump of an upraised fist. “Do not let the secular humanists tell you when and how you can pray!”, Hap continued, “And stop the murder of unborn children in the womb!”

Hap had worked himself into such a state he almost forgot his cue. The Right Reverend took a breath, shrugged his shoulders. and the piano player started into “Onward Christian Soldiers”. Hap turned from the congregation to retrieve his anti-anxiety pill from his vest pocket, and, horror of horrors, he dropped it. Absolute panic overtook the Right Reverend. He dropped to his knees and felt about as best as he could for the little white pill. Just as Hap was about to burst into tears over the loss of his pill, he found it. With a brief thanks to whatever powers there may be, Hap popped the pill in his mouth and tried to look like he was rising up from prayer.

While Hap was searching for his calmative agent, the Elders of the church were passing through the congregation searching for the only thing that would calm the wolves at the door. Money. It was a good thing the folks were well trained, because there was nothing coming from the pulpit that let the congregation know that they were supposed to dig, and dig deep, for the privilege of listening to the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone. Elder Cheatum made another note. The Elder knew it had been part of the Revival Ministers Handbook, he just couldn’t figure out why Hap was leaving out the plea. It was particularly curious since the Right Reverend was getting a cut of the gate. Curious indeed.

Hap T. Johnstone used his last ten minutes to call on the assembled to enlist in the Army of the Lord. There was no task that was too great to accomplish by the Soldiers of Christ. When done, the sanctified would sit on the right side of God for time everlasting. “All you need to do to enlist in the Army of the Lord is to come on down to the altar and give your life and soul to Jesus”, “Life everlasting awaits you.”, Hap assured the audience. He shrugged his shoulders and the piano player started playing, “Fight the Good Fight”. As Hap moved down to the floor to preform the Testament of Faith, he glanced at the aisles. From the crowds filling the aisles, it looked like a lot of folks were spoiling for a good fight.

The Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone reached for the snake being handed to him by his security guard. It was a well fed, red boa, and looked enough like a copperhead to fool city folk. Hap held the snake above his head and started his circle of tongues. Hap would speak in tongues, and the boa would stick his out. As Hap returned to the altar he brought the snake from above his head to hand it to his security. Suddenly, Hap was overtaken by the overwhelming urge to scratch, and he completely dropped the snake. Hap’s security guard pounced on the snake like it was a live grenade, which should have been a giveaway to anyone familiar with handling poisonous snakes. The snake was recovered and placed back in the proper box.

The people with the best view of the mishap were up front giving their personal details to Hap’s entourage before being added to the “healing” lines. If they noticed the miscue, no one mentioned it. No one wanted to jinx their chances of being cured of their ailment. Hap appreciated their devotion, and did his dead level best to let the Lord work through him to effect some relief for these people. Hap prayed that some of the healing power would stay with him and cure the infernal rash that was taking over his body. If the malady did not cease soon, Hap might be forced to cancel the balance of the revival. It would be a financial disaster, and Hap was loathe to think about the consequences, short term and long term.

The Right Reverend did his best to bring relief to the poor souls gathered in front of him for the next hour. Hap waved his hand over his head signalling his piano player to start playing the sendoff, “Jesus Paid It All”. The Heavenly Hummingbirds were singing in perfect harmony as Reverend Hap headed back up the steps to the stage. The Right Reverend looked out over the audience as he placed the microphone back in its stand. “I think we’ve made a good start you all, and I hope you can come back tomorrow night and share in the miracles we’re about to perform.”, Reverend Hap said as he waved goodbye to the crowd. 

Hap and his entourage exited the tent with Hap speed walking back to the tour bus. Elder Cheatum had questions, but he reckoned they’d wait for the light of day. It had been a long day, and there was no point stirring up the pot this late at night.

 

 

Good morning, y’all. Our weather has been rainstorms interspersed with blasts of sunshine like the death rays of science fiction movies. Folks are flocking into the Rec room to escape the ninety degree plus temperatures we’re experiencing here in the mountains. Those that are physically fit enough, or just don’t care, are lounging about the pool in their bathing suits. Summer is here, two weeks early.

Speaking of Summer puts me in mind of that fateful Summer Revival 2010. When we left our story it was Wednesday night, the third night of the revival. Supper has been served for the headliners and staff. Reverend Dale E. Bread is headed to Tent number three to do his sound check when he hears someone calling his name. He turns to see that it is the assistant of the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone. Try as he might, Reverend Dale can’t help but throw out a line. “You can’t catch fish if you don’t throw out a line”, Dale reasons.

Hap’s assistant seems to appreciate the effort and beams mightily. “I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your sermon the other night, it was inspired”. Reverend Dale looked down on the beautiful girl and smiled, revealing thirty two perfect teeth.

“Why, thank you very much, I appreciate the praise from someone who is used to hearing the best”.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Crystal replied coyly, “I just wanted you to know that I think you’re special”.

“Well, thank you so much”, “I’m on opposite Hap tonight, so I guess you won’t be able to catch my sermon”.”Maybe we can discuss some of my favorite scriptures, or yours, after?”

“Maybe”, Crystal replied, and then she was headed off to the tour bus. Reverend Bread headed towards Tent number three with an extra bounce his step. He was buoyed so much by the encounter that he had gotten past the fact the Reverend Al Dabino was his opening act. That Edgar Winter looking son of a gun could turn off an audience quicker than a fly in a bowl of grits.

Unobserved by the two young people was Elder Cheatum starting his final rounds before night three began. Elder Cheatum knocked on the door of the tour bus just in time to hear the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone yell, “Where in the Hell have you been?”. Prepared to let the Right Reverend know who the boss of this rodeo was, he started to enter the door of the tour bus. The door was being opened by Hap’s assistant, who was biting her lower lip.

“I brought by your fee”, Elder Chetaum said as he handed Crystal the envelope containing ten, one hundred dollar bills. “Y’all need help with anything before you go on?”, he asked.

Hap was sitting on the sofa across from the open door in his underwear. “We’re finer than snuff, and not near as dusty”, Hap replied, “We’re looking forward to a spirit filled evening”.

“Well good, glad to hear it”, “I’ll leave you to it then”, Elder Cheatum called into the closing door. 

As the bus door closed, Elder Cheatum caught a glance of the Right Reverend’s bare legs. The light revealed what was either a horrible rash, or terrible bruising on Hap’s legs. Elder Cheatum slipped around to the front of the bus. He wanted to see if there were going to be any more outbursts from inside the bus. There were no more loud voices, so Elder Cheatum moved on. Elder Cheatum continued his last loop around the grounds before taking up a position in the back of Tent number one. It was Elder Cheatum’s turn to watch Brighton Early. 

Promptly at 7PM, the lights flickered throughout the parking lot and the speakers started playing the hymn, “All Are Welcome”, and Reverend Brighton Early bounded onto the stage. Elder Cheatum had heard hundreds of ministers over the years, thousands of sermons, but he had never heard a minister start his sermon with, “All right, all right, all right”. This was going to be interesting.

Reverend Brighton Early was freshly ordained at The Pentecostal Theological Seminary over in Cleveland, Tennessee. He was so new that his mailing address was still in Cleveland. Brighton was the “pick of the litter” of the newly ordained ministers, or so the committee had been told by the Minister Referral Service at the seminary. Reverend Early possessed a certain charm that resounded well with the younger worshipers. His repertoire of sermons was straight out of the Seminary’s “Top Fifty”, and his healing and serpent skills were suspect. He was young, and so one would presume that he would learn. Brighton Early’s attraction was his connection to the youth market and his salary demands. If the young reverend could be secured, “on the cheap”, and had the ability to bring in new members, he might be a good choice. This was the first time the Little Church in the Valley was going outside of the Hawker family for a minister, so all of the options needed to be considered.

Reverend Brighton Early’s sermon was entitled, “Speaking in Tongues, Is It For Today?” Reverend Early took the standard Pentecostal sermon and interspersed it with a litany of modern day references. Brighton added scenes from the movies “Ironman”, and “Unbreakable” to try to infuse the ancient practice with relevance for the younger audience. Reverend Early was all over the map, as far as Elder Cheatum was concerned. The Elder found himself patting his foot, waiting for the altar call and Testament of Faith.

Finally it was over, no snakes or sinners had been damaged. The Elder tried not to judge too harshly, “lest he be judged”, but he did not see a future for the Little Church in the Valley in the hands of Reverend Brighton Early. Attracting new membership, particularly of the youthful variety was the lifeblood of any church. That said, Elder Cheatum felt that you couldn’t “throw out the baby with the bathwater”. In this case, you couldn’t let the baby throw out the bathwater. Reverend Brighton Early was too “Early” in his career to carry the torch passed by Reverend Daniel.

“Too Early”, Elder Cheatum chuckled to himself. He’d have to remember that one for the committee meeting tomorrow. Now the Elder turned his attention back to the stage as the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone’s entourage took their places. Would the Little Church in the Valley get their money’s worth again?

 

Good morning, y’all. I’m mighty proud to report we didn’t melt into a giant glob of butter like I was predicting. The rains came through, a couple of times in fact, and cooled us off considerably. I’m happy to have more of the same. Looks like our good fortune is being provided by a tropical storm off of the coast of Florida. The weather map shows a wide area being effected by monsoons. Not Biblical mind you, unless you live in Houston. I think Houstonians are waiting for the locusts.

Thinking about Biblical prophesy, floods and such, puts us back on track for the history of the Little Church in the Valley. About 4PM, on day three of Summer Revival 2010, Elder Diggum checked his spreadsheet entry for the evening’s lineup. The Excel spreadsheet showed Brighton Early opening for Hap T. Johnstone in Tent One, Bill Foldes opening for Rocky Rhoades in Tent Two, and  Al DaBino opening for Dale E. Bread in Tent Three.

Elder Diggum was particularly interested in watching Bill Foldes work. So far Elder Diggum had confined his attention to Tent number one. “That’s where the money is”, he had joked to his partner, Elder Cheatum. With multiple reports coming in about the strength of the healing powers of the novice Bill Foldes, Elder Diggum felt obilgated to follow the young minister more closely. The Little Church in the Valley might be auditioning a “diamond in the rough”, and if the church could lock up a potential super star, it behooved the committee to give the “diamond” every opportunity to shine.

As Elder Diggum did his walk around, he noticed that the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone’s gigantic Cadillac SUV’s were still parked where they were when they had returned the day before. Hap’s crew had shown up for the lunch provided by the Ladies Auxillary, but Hap had apparently taken his meal with his assistant in the tour bus. Not that Hap eating privately was not as planned, it just was not the best public relations move. Folks breaking bread together is one of the most bonding experiences that can be preformed. By shunning all of the followers of the congregation, Hap created a separation that was not perceived as positive. Dietary restrictions aside, Hap could have enjoyed a glass of sweet tea at lunchtime and given the people devoting their time and resources to his success, a feeling of appreciation.

Elder Diggum walked by the T-shirt booth and noticed that the spray paint trainee was in place and getting the fine points of the trade from the current painter. If things worked out, there would be enough business to keep both painters busy. If not, the master painter could push as much work to the trainee as necessary to keep from aggravating his carpal tunnel. Since the painter’s were being paid by the piece, it behooved the master painter to handle as much of the business as possible.

Elder Diggum walked by the new “Fruit Bowl” booth, and asked sister Constance Winer for a sample. Constance reached into one of the three, four-gallon wash tubs, to pull out a sample of their most creative work. Once one got past the concept of fresh fruit being packaged in a cup labeled with the Pepsi Cola logo all over it, the other shortcoming became evident. The fruit was sealed in the cup with Saran wrap. The plastic wrap had a tendency to come away from the cup when plunged into the ice in the wash tub. Constance told the Elder that they had gone through a couple of trial and errors before figuring a way to insert the fruit into the ice without mishap. Not to worry though, they had recovered and reused all of the spilt fruit. Elder Diggum complimented Constance on her ingenuity and pushed on to his next concern, the crowds had already begun to arrive.

Promptly at 6PM, the visiting ministers and Hap T. Johnson’s entourage met at the picnic tables setup by the Ladies Auxillary for feeding the workers. There appeared to be some tension between Hap’s people and the Reverend Dale E. Bread, but no cross words or overt actions were noticed. Reverend Daniel Hawker took the head of the table to deliver the blessing, as he had done on the previous nights of Summer Revival 2010.

Reverend Daniel beseeched the Lord for a good competition, much the same as a referee would beseech two fighters for “a good clean fight”. Reverend Daniel prayed for a competition that would result in the Lord’s chosen servants gaining a new minister that would give them year’s of faithful service as the Hawker family had done. Reverend Daniel finished by asking the Lord for “just a few more days of good weather”. The last request was delivered in a joking voice to let the listeners know that Reverend Daniel would never ask the Lord for something as trivial as good weather.

While the prayer was being delivered, Hap’s assistant, Crystal Leer, delivered a message to one of Hap’s security guards, who immediately rushed away in the direction of the tour bus. Crystal stayed behind, and kind of floated aimlessly about the tables. Perhaps she had a curiosity about the down-home Southern cooking being presented with such care by the Ladies Auxillary. Apparently the smell of country ham and collard greens and black-eyed peas were too strong attraction for Ms. Leer. She slipped into the only available seat, which happened to be next to the Reverend Dale E. Bread. Each gave a polite nod acknowledging the other, and then proceeded to acknowledge the ham and side dishes. After his fourth cat’s head biscuit, Reverend Bread cried, “enuff”, and declared he’d have to be wheeled to the pulpit in a wheelbarrow if he ate one more bite. After thanking the Ladies Auxillary for “as fine a meal as any man ever ate”, he headed back towards the tents. Ms. Leer followed along shortly after.

Crystal Chandle Leer was caught between the rock of having a name that provoked laughter, and, the hard place of changing her name and dishonoring her parents. The Leer family lived so far back in the woods that electricity had just recently come to their area. The idea for Crystal’s name had come from a school trip to the Governor’s mansion when Crystal’s daddy beheld the beauty of the natural light reflecting through the prisms of the gigantic light in the foyer of the manison. He was so transfixed by the shimmering lights that his teacher had to move him along for the rest of the tour. When Crystal was born, he named his daughter after the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, a crystal chandelier.

Crystal had worked hard to pull herself out of the poverty that trapped her family, and to prove that she wasn’t a joke. Her beauty had gotten her into beauty pageants, but her name had prevented her from ever winning. In desolation, and at the end of  her rope, she had decided to “give Jesus a chance”, and wandered into one of the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone’s revivals. The Right Reverend was as awestruck by Crystal as her daddy was by the crystal chandelier in the Governor’s mansion. That night she started traveling with the minister as his most trusted confidant. The position of Executive Assistant included the subtitles of scheduler, secretary and chef. Truth was, she didn’t even have to cook if she didn’t want to. Crystal’s position was just another bargaining chip the Right Reverend used to up his daily fee. Crystal knew more about Hap’s empire than Hap did, and Crystal hoped to parlay that information into a better situation for herself.

Crystal ran a few steps closer before calling out, “Reverend Bread”. The tall good looking man from Florida turned and responded, “I must have died, I hear an angel calling my name.”

Good morning, y’all. Feeling hot, hot, hot! For some reason that song keeps playing in my head. It could be the sweltering temperatures in the area. It seems odd to have a silly little song be buzzing around in my head, as if it could offset the discomfort of these steamy conditions. I wonder if Buster Poindexter was suffering from heat prostration when he wrote the song. That might explain the repetitive lyrics.

Some things bear repeating, like the history of the Little Church in the Valley. When we left our story, night had fallen on day two of Summer Revival 2010. As the followers of the Little Church in the Valley began preforming their chores on day three of Summer Revival 2010, their was a real sense of calm about the grounds. The mountain stillness was undisturbed except for the occasional starting and stopping of the generator on the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone’s tour bus. Church members moved about the area picking up trash, straightening chairs and just generally sprucing up the area. Most of the workers had been taught from infancy that any little issue put off today was going to be a much larger issue tomorrow, so they did their dead level best to spiff the area back up to opening night standards.

The Ladies Auxillary was hard at work tracking their inventory in food stuffs and bric-a-brac. Doubling the first night’s food purchase had been a good idea. While there had been sellouts in certain items, like nachos, there were remaining stocks in others. The Ladies wanted to walk that fine line of selling out, but not missing any sales. The Ladies in Waiting were sent into Blairsville to restock from the Walmart, being careful to watch for any “Blue Light Specials” that might be applicable.They were also given the shopping list from the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone’s personal chef. Looking at the variety of items, the Ladies in Waiting thanked God they had access to one of Walmart’s super stores.

There had been a lot of requests from the crowds for healthier food than the usual carnival fare, and the Ladies were going to try to incorporate fresh fruit into their offerings. It was determined a fruit cup could be cobbled together from the free cups donated by Pepsi Cola. The cups would be filled with assorted melons and berries purchased at Walmart and lovingly sliced and diced by The Ladies. The fruit cups would be sealed with saran wrap and placed in wash tubes covered in ice donated by the Hawker’s General Store. At $2.00 a cup, the profit margin should be about eighty percent. The Ladies Auxillary was extremely proud of their high record of profitability.

One area of concern was the screen painter charged with personalizing the various clothing items sold at the T-shirt booth. After painting a record number of items on the first night, the artist returned the second night complaining of carpal tunnel syndrome. After discussing the situation with the Elders, and offering the healing hands of any of the revival minsters, up to and including the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone, the Ladies located a backup from the North Georgia Technical College. The backup painter was enrolled in the school of cosmetology, and was entranced with the idea that there might be some future makeup and nail work generated by the exposure. The Elders were delighted that they had a viable backup for one of their more popular attractions, and, they had reduced the possibility of being held hostage by an artist. Not that the Elders were thinking the worst of the painter.

The Elders had much bigger fish to fry. Shortly after beginning their daily “mop-up meeting” around the kitchen table in the rectory, the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnstone burst into the room with two of his larger security guards in tow. In language that was unbecoming a drunken sailor on leave in a port in the Philippines, the Right Reverend unloaded on the collected group of church officials. Exactly, “who did this upstart redneck from Florida think he was”, and, “did he think he’d ever preach again” after Reverend Hap had spread the word, was the jist of the message. Hap queried each church official as to what they knew, and when they knew it, regarding the reiteration of the Right Reverend’s number one sermon. All denied any prior knowledge. The collected church officials let Hap blow off steam; there was no sense trying to stop him anyway, and after about five minutes the tirade was finished.

When he finished his rant, the Right Reverend asked for a glass of water, and then proceeded to bend over and scratch his ankles and calves violently under his socks and his pants. Once Hap had scratched to a state of satiety, he turned and asked Elder Cheatum, “what’s my cut?”.

Elder Cheatum replied, “we were just about to hear the treasurer’s report”. “Mulva, will you tell us what the collections were in Ten number one last night?”

Mulva Lite ran her finger along the ledger book until finding the right entry and reported, “Two thousand nine hundred and seventy five dollars”. Elder Cheatum asked the treasurer to count out two hundred ninety seven dollars and fifty cents and give the cash to the Right Reverend.

Hap took the cash and then asked Elder Cheatum, “I’d like my daily fee now, please”. 

Elder Cheatum smiled at Hap and responded, “I’d like to keep to our original agreement. I’ll be by with your fee one hour before you’re to go on”. “Things can get confusing sometimes, and I think we’ve got a system that works fairly for everyone”.

Hap, looked perplexed. He didn’t hear “no” many times, and he needed to process the news before responding. “Oh, okay, if that’s how you folks do things up here in the hills, well I guess that’s how it’s got to be”.

Hap turned on his heel and out the door he went, with his two security guards following behind like the trailer doors on a semi truck. Elder Cheatum looked about the kitchen and said, “Now, onto other business”.

The treasurer gave her complete report. Collections were six thousand and eighty dollars for the second night. The net to the Little Church in the Valley was twenty nine hundred dollars and some change after paying all of the ministers. Treasurer Lite could hardly contain the smile one her face when she reported that the concessions brought in close to nine thousand dollars. She had not gathered all of the receipts from the Ladies Auxillary yet, but Mulva felt certain the net profit from concessions would be close to seventy percent. The Ladies in Waiting would be back soon to help with lunch preparation for the assorted entourages, and Mulva would collect receipts then.

The meeting was turned over to Reverend Daniel and he began to question the assembled Elders for their opinions about the revival ministers. The Reverend Dale E. Bread was getting high marks. Opinions varied as to whether poaching Hap T. Johnstone’s sermon was “kosher” or not; but to those who had heard both sermons, Reverend Bread’s was felt to be more powerful, more spirit filled. The only other standout was Reverend Bill Foldes who seemed to make up in healing power what he lacked in oratory and serpent skills. Acolytes who had requested healing from the Reverend Bill Foldes reported feeling a “heavenly charge” when Reverend Foldes commanded them to heal. The ability to heal was very important to the mountain community, and the congregation would be well disposed to wait for a true healer to develop his other skills while taking advantage of his gift of healing.

There being no other business, Reverend Daniel charged the committee to go and get a plate filled with the bounty provided by the Ladies Auxillary, and break bread with him. The committee returned to the table with plates heaped with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and fried okra. Reverend Daniel said the blessing, and asked the Almighty to give the committee the wisdom of Solomon in selecting the right shepherd for His flock. By mutual, silent agreement, it was determined that the meeting was over. It would have been discourteous to try to talk business while their mouths were so full. The Elders would meet later that afternoon anyway, and the cornbread was hot right now.

Good morning, y’all. We hold out hope for cooling rains over the weekend. Even with the threat of lost power due to lightning strikes and/or high wind, we could still use a cool off from the rain. The asphalt is not melting yet but the heat is building up in all things constructed of metal. Grabbing hold of the door handle on the maintenance shed was like grabbing hold of the hinges of the gates of Hell.

Speaking of the gates of Hell, Summer Revival 2010 was purposed for keeping the flock on the straight and narrow and out of the grasp of the devil. Tent number one was going to be the hot spot for salvation on this Tuesday night. The Reverend Dale E. Bread was opening for the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson, both strong orators. The Elders had given Dale E. Bread high marks on his first night, and it would be interesting to see how he fared against big league competition. Dale’s altar call had been good and his serpent skills above average in his first night’s audition. Now he would be placed in front of the biggest audience he had ever preached to, to gauge his skills. Would the hundreds of extra eyes unnerve the Reverend? The question was soon answered.

The Reverend Dale E. Bread could not have displayed his Florida roots any more if he had stood before the crowd and done the Gator chomp with his arms. He was dressed in a white linen suit, peach colored shirt, peach and blue flecked tie, and white patent leather loafers. His blonde pompadour hair was coifed perfectly and contrasted elegantly with his tanned skin. Without fanfare, he broke into “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”, A capella, and his rich baritone voice filled the tent with wonderment. By the third verse the crowd was singing along and swaying to the rhythm as if following the flute of an Indian snake charmer. What happened next was unprecedented in revivals held at the Little Church in the Valley.

Reverend Bread looked out over the crowd stretched out before him, and in a rock steady voice, proceeded to deliver a sermon entitled “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”. The same sermon delivered by the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson, the night before. Now, it is fairly common place for preachers to poach sermons from one another, particularly snippets. There are, in fact, several repositories of sermons that preachers can draw from, in whole or part, to get a particular message to their flock. Actually copyrighting the “word of God” becomes problematic, though. Would a preacher sue another preacher for copyright infringement for a sermon that was supposed to have been revealed to them by the holy spirit? Well, the Reverend Dale E. Bread thought not, and proceeded to deliver Hap T. Johnson’s message, but better.

There were no singing interludes, no breaks for glossolalia, no breaks for singing and medicating, just hard hitting word of God for fifty minutes. At the end of his sermon, Reverend Bread broke into, “Just As I Am”, and proceeded to walk down to the floor singing while reaching into the serpent box. Without hesitation he pulled out a six foot timber rattler an proceeded to wave it all about his head and torso while he did a very fervent “tap dance for Jesus”. Music scholars would have marveled at how the Reverend’s feet were flying at ninety beats a minute while his voice maintained the slow dirge like rhythm of the hymn. As he placed the snake back in the box, the Reverend broke into speaking in tongues, but there was something different. At odd intervals, the words, “Come”, “on”, and “down” could be heard amidst the gibberish. It appeared that the crowd heard the message, and they came on down, almost as fervently as they did for the Right Reverend Johnson on the first night. The aisles were full.

Unlike the seekers of salvation the night before, these pilgrims were not tagged with their affliction, nor were they asked to reveal their personal details. They were escorted to the Reverend, who then determined their ills by skin color, body structure or pattern recognition. If the stated diagnosis was not correct, the Reverend accepted the correction with, “and you also suffer with psoriasis”, or whatever the afflicted had revealed the correct ailment to be. He then proceeded to grab the afflicted by both ears and give them a good shake. Next, he placed his hands on the believer’s forehead. He gave a great squeeze and then a push, sending the afflicted into the waiting arms of a church Elder. The “healed” were then asked to give testimony of their healing, only if they felt healed of course, and then led back to their seats. Reverend Bread’s healings went on for well over an hour and cut into the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson’s time.

Normally, this would have been fine. Hap was contracted by start and end time, and losing a few minutes would not have hurt Hap’s feelings. Tonight was different though. This upstart redneck from Florida had just delivered Hap’s number one sermon. Not as good as Hap, mind you, but had done a right credible job. The upstart’s serpent skills were excellent, and he had done a fine job of displaying techniques learned in Healing 101. He was also doing a fine job of working the crowd and he seemed to have developed a real rapport.

At 8:30PM, Hap had his piano player start playing “Faith of Our Fathers”, while the Heavenly Hummingbirds moved center stage. The crowd in front of the altar took the cue and began heading back to their seats. Reverend Dale E. Bread pushed the last believer into the waiting arms of the Elders and ran back up the steps of the stage to deliver the microphone to Right Reverend Johnson. Hap took the microphone without as much as a glance at Reverend Bread, and caught up with the Heavenly Hummingbirds mid verse:

“How sweet would be their children’s fate,

If they, like them, could die for thee!

Faith of our Fathers! Holy Faith!

We will be true to thee till death.”

Hap’s format for every service was identical, with the exception of the theme. For the first ten minutes tonight, Hap extolled the virtues of time honored traditions, of following the belief systems handed down from generation to generation. For the second night in a row, Right Reverend paused his sermon to “speak in tongues” for about three minutes. After a return to this world, and a sip of water, Hap took off again for twenty minutes straight on why good Christians should reject all of this “New Age” bunk being forced on them from the TV and schools. He spat out the words “secular” and “humanism” as if they were burning his tongue. Right Reverend Johnson left no doubt that “modernism” was not the path of the righteous.

As Hap shrugged his shoulders to cue his piano player to begin playing, “How Great Thou Art”, he reached in his vest pocket for his anti-anxiety pill. Turning from the audience to swallow the pill, Hap took the opportunity to bend over and give his ankles and calves a furious scratching. It felt like the rash was spreading exponentially, in spite of the creme that had bought at the Walmart in Blairsville. The Elders were passing the plate as Hap rose and turned back to the audience. Hap joined the Heavenly Hummingbirds for the final two verses as he watched the Elders work up and down the aisles.

The last ten minutes of the sermon were spent condemning everything that had been invented since medieval times. Hap kept peppering the audience with questions, “Do you think you will get past St. Peter carrying an XBox?”, “Will you sit with the Heavenly host and watch your flat screen?”, “Will you be able to drive your Lexus on the streets paved of gold?”. Towards the end of the sermon the crowd had figured out that the answer to every question was “no”, and they rewarded Hap with a negative response to his queries in unison. Hap shrugged his shoulders and the piano player went into, “Softly and Tenderly” as Hap made his way to the floor for the Testament of Faith and altar call.

Once again, Hap’s security reached into the appropriate box and pulled out a pre-approved serpent for the Testament of Faith. Hap moved about the circle with the snake held high, while tap dancing to beat the band. He varied his routine slightly to throw out some “tongues” as he moved from radius to radius. As he handed the snake back to his security, Hap had a momentary lapse and let the snake’s head go. The snake dangled by his tail for a moment before the security person swooped in and took charge of the situation. Right Reverend Hap took the opportunity to scratch his ankles and calves again before turning back to the congregation.

The aisles were filled again with poor souls seeking redemption and rehabilitation. Hap worked tirelessly “his wonders to perform” until 10PM, at which point he waved to his piano player. The piano player began playing, “Just As I Am”, and the Heavenly Hummingbirds chimed in. Reverend Hap headed back up the steps to the stage and placed the microphone back in its stand. The Right Reverend leaned into the microphone and repeated his signature sign off; “I think we’ve made a good start you all, and I hope you can come back tomorrow night and share in the miracles we’re about to perform.” With a quick wave, Hap bounced off the stage and went directly to his tour bus. He did not stop to fraternize with the crowd, or sign memorabilia.

The Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson was irritated, and it wasn’t just the rash.

Good morning, y’all. The sun shines bright on my old Georgia home, and I wish I could find the dimmer switch. It’s warming up too much, too early in the season for me. I suspect, most people feel the same. Reading about temperatures above 110 degrees in India doesn’t make me feel any better. Sometimes misery does not love company.

Speaking of misery, misery was what brought most of the folks to the Summer Revival 2010. People were looking for a healing, of body, or soul, or maybe both. As the second day of the revival began, the Elders of the Little Church in the Valley gathered round the kitchen table in the rectory to discuss the previous day’s events. By all accounts, the day was a smashing success in terms of turnout and revenue. Conservative estimates put the crowd at twelve hundred people, and the Ladies Auxillary reported an almost complete sellout of food items. The “Ladies in Waiting” of the Ladies Auxillary had been dispatched to Blairsville to scour the Walmart for items that could be resold easily. Any items that were individually packed were prized. Some items, like giant dill pickles, would be sold individually straight from the container. There would be no Health Department officials overlooking the process, so, if an attendee returned home with something unexpected, well, it was God’s will.

Pepsi Cola in Blairsville had been called to restock their little pullalong trailer with double the Co2 and mix canisters. Pepsi Cola had donated the trailer and product, and were happy to have the exposure in the heart of Coca Cola country. Ice was provided by the Hoakum’s General Store, and cold drinks at a dollar a cup were highly profitable. Since the evening temperatures were in the upper eighty’s, and, most of the foods chosen were of the salty variety, the crowd was desperate for fluid replacements. There had been discussion of selling Gatorade or other energy drinks, but the profit margin was just not there. A bottle of Gatorade would have to sell for five dollars to provide the margin that was being delivered by the cups of Pepsi Cola. The Elders didn’t want to be sitting on any unsold inventory at the end of the Revival.

The reports of the Elders overseeing tent numbers two and three had been favorable. The altar call and Testament of Faith had not been as overwhelming as in tent number one, but had been respectable. While the styles of each of the hopefuls was different, each had held to the format given to them by the Elders. Clearly, healing was not the strong suit of some of the ministers, but all had delivered a strong message. The ability to handle serpents, and give confidence to the audience that the snake was been handled properly, also varied tremendously. No one mentioned the shortcomings of the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson, but the uncertainty by Brighton Early had been noticed.

It was expected that the newly ordained ministers might be a little green, but the Little Church in the Valley had been founded on the Testament of Faith. There were many in the congregation that believed that the snakes could sense fear, and that it made them more aggressive. No one wanted to handle a six foot timber rattler after the snake had been made aware of a doubter. The Elders were looking for reasons to disqualify a candidate as well as to qualify them. Being unable to pass a snake to the person next to you without incident was a black mark. Failing to call the sinful to the altar was also another shortcoming that could not be overlooked. The Reverend Rocky Rhoades seemed to have the least appeal to the sinners, or the congregation in Tent Number Three was the most pious. Either way, his altar call seemed a little sparse.

Less guilt seemed to equate to less collections. The collections from Tent Number Three fell far short of the average donation of $5.25 per head collected in Tent Numbers One and Two. Treasurer Mulva Lite reported collections of  five thousand one hundred and forty dollars for the first night. Ninety percent of the take was in cash. After paying all of the ministers, and the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson his share of the gate, the Little Church in the Valley cleared about twenty six hundred dollars from donations. Treasurer Lite was also happy to report that the concessions brought in a whopping eight thousand dollars. All and all, it was a record breaking first night Revival for the church. Reverend Daniel remarked that “new blood” might just be what the Little Church needed. Everyone was too polite to agree, and all assured him that he still had years of service to perform.

The lineup for night two of Summer Revival 2010 had Dale E. Bread opening for Hap T. Johnson in Tent One,  Brighton Early opening for Bill Foldes in Tent Two, and Rocky Rhoades opening for Al Bino in Tent Three. For the most part, the ministers were not to be seen during the day. All the ministers kept to themselves, and went about whatever sightseeing, Bible study, or video game playing while they killed time until the next service. There was one exception. The Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson, and part of his entourage, were very highly visible as they roared out of the parking lot. They had just been served lunch by the Ladies Auxillary, and suddenly they jumped into the cars as one.

The screeching tires of the Escalades had Reverend Daniel commenting, “Where’s the fire?” There was no fire, except for the suspicious looking rash that had developed on the Right Reverend’s ankles and legs. As the hour approached 6PM, and the Right Reverend and his entourage had not arrived back, the Elders began to become concerned. At 6:08PM the Right Reverend returned and rushed into his tour bus without a word. The Elders breathed a sigh of relief, and did their walk around of the grounds. Elder Cheatum went to the tour bus and knocked on the door. The Right Reverend’s assistant answered the door and took the envelope with ten one hundred dollar bills from the Elder. She then signed the ledger book indicating receipt of payment. There being no further discussion, Elder Cheatum moved on to check on the Ladies Auxillary. The Ladies Auxillary was prepared for another big night, Pepsi Cola had restocked their mobile concession stand, and all of the stations looked ready to go.

The crowds had already filled the main tent, having learned the night before that if you’re going to see Hap T. Johnson, you’ve got to get there early. The remainder of the crowd was wandering about, mulling the decision of which of the ministers they wanted to see. As the slower decision makers continued to try to make up their minds, their decision was made for them. Tent number two filled up, with the only room left for the stragglers in Tent number three. Promptly at 7PM, the lights flickered throughout the parking lot and the speakers started playing the hymn, “All Are Welcome”.  Night two of Summer Revival 2010 had begun.

Good morning, y’all. We got a little liquid sunshine today and it has helped to cool things off a bit. All of the flora appreciated the drink, as well as the fauna, too. I have reached my self imposed exile from landscaping duties. No new projects, maintenance only. Maintenance is strictly between the hours of 8AM to 10AM and 4PM to 6PM. No point in tempting the grim reaper.

Discussion of the grim reaper is a great way to segue into the retelling of the history of the Little Church in the Valley. When we left our story, the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson was leading the congregation in a robust version of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”. At the end of the final verse, Hap raised his hands to mid-shoulder height and lowered them, signifying to the audience, and his entourage that it was time to sit down. In a voice trained by graduate level public speaking courses, Hap went into sermon number one, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”.

For ten minutes straight, hardly catching a breath, Reverend Hap spoke about the importance of obtaining the friendship of the man from Galilee. Then, as if struck by lightning, the Right Reverend stood straight as a board, his eyes fixed on some remote object, and the Right Reverend “spoke in tongues” for three minutes. No words were decipherable, no language or languages discerned, just the physical manifestation that the holy spirit was in attendance at this revival, and was making his presence know through his disciple Hap T. Johnson.

When defined by linguistic experts, Glossolalia or “speaking in tongues”, is the melodious vocalizing of speech-like sounds that are incomprehensible to the listener. When defined by members of the Pentecostal faith, they reference the Bible passage Acts 2:1-4, “Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them”.  When defined by the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson, it meant a break in the action and the opportunity to refresh himself with whatever libation was available.

The crowd waited patiently for the Right Reverend to compose himself. After a couple of minutes, he charged back into his sermon as if there had been no break. For the next twenty minutes the Right Reverend extolled the importance of having Jesus for a friend. Jesus could “protect us from all harm” and “pave the path to prosperity” for those who were ready to accept Him as their Lord and Savior. After twenty minutes the Right Reverend was ready for another little break, and so, with a shrug of his shoulders he started the piano player into a medley of gospel songs. The Right Reverend began the chorus of the “Old Rugged Cross”, and then let The Hummingbirds take over for the next ten minutes. The musical interlude was the perfect opportunity to pass the collection plate, and the Elders of the Little Church in the Valley worked swiftly and unobtrusively to complete their mission. Hap reached into his vest pocket and swallowed his anti-anxiety pill. After taking a big chug of water, Hap T. Johnson was ready to “bring it home” for the final ten minutes.

Having convinced his audience of the importance of having Jesus for a friend, Hap spent the next ten minutes describing the horrible loss in this life, and the next, of Jesus’s friendship. The horrors described in this life rivaled the tribulations of Job. One could expect ailments and afflictions coupled with crushing poverty if one couldn’t “get right with Jesus” today. The horrors for the next life were incomprehensible, with living in a lake of fire almost sounding like a condo on the beach by comparison. Hap T. Johnson was at his best when describing the pains of eternal damnation. By the time he had finished his last segment, the audience was primed for the altar call and testament of faith.

Once again, the Right Reverend Hap T. Johnson shrugged his shoulders and the piano player broke into “Love Lifted Me”. The Hummingbirds broke into song behind him as Hap pulled the microphone loose from the pulpit, and carried it with him down to the floor in front of the altar. Hap’s most trusted security guard reached into the wooden crate painted white with “Private Property of Hap T. Johnson Ministries” stenciled in black on the side. The head of security reached into the crate and selected a sluggish, well fed corn snake to pass to the Right Reverend. Mustering all of his courage and love for the coin of the realm, Hap took the snake and began his “tap dance for Jesus” while hollering out whatever scriptures popped into his brain. After making a single pass of area between the aisles and the first row, Hap returned the snake to his security man and called into the microphone, “Who’s ready to accept Jesus into their souls?”.

Lines were formed in both aisles, and security filled the queue in front of the Right Reverend to pass the lost souls back for Redemption. People who were requesting healings were pre-screened in line, and were pinned with a colored ribbon that indicated the body part or disease that needed to be exorcised. To the audience, the Right Reverend looked prescient when he announced to the audience what the afflicted were suffering from. The infirmed’s contact information was gathered to facilitate being added to the Right Reverend’s prayer list, and by extension, solicitation of donations for the ministry. 

The lines going down both aisles looked endless, and the Right Reverend suspected that there were followers sneaking in from the other tents, hoping to take advantage. Security, and the Elders, were supposed to be keeping things straight, but, sinners can be very resourceful. The plans were to pass out blessings for an hour before wrapping up the meeting with a prayer. To the Right Reverend’s skilled eye, there appeared to be at least two hours of “laying hands” as fast as he could lay them. This overflow condition created the opportunity to do private healings, which could be very lucrative. Hap would not slow his process to create additional opportunities, but he would also not work overtime to catch up. His contract specified one hour, and one hour it would be.

At the end of the “hour of healing”, the Right Reverend waved his hand above his head and the piano player began playing, “Just As I Am”. The Heavenly Hummingbirds picked up the cue, and Reverend Hap headed back up the steps to the stage. Placing the microphone back in its stand at the pulpit, the Right Reverend looked out over the audience and beamed brightly. “I think we’ve made a good start you all, and I hope you can come back tomorrow night and share in the miracles we’re about to perform.” Reverend Hap waved goodbye and he and his entourage exited the tent. Feeling particularly gregarious, Hap decided to work at the gift booth signing his name to memorabilia. An autograph was ten dollars, whether it went in a Bible or on a sea shell with the sign of the Crucifixion. The requests Hap received for healings were passed off to his scheduler. Hap sought out Elder Cheatum for an accounting of the collection. Once Hap was satisfied with the accounting, Hap collected his share in cash and headed back to his bus for the night.