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L to R: Dad, Mom, Sister 1, Sister 2,
Back Row L to R: Brothers Lowell, Wil and Me |
Acts 2:1-4
“ 1And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they
were all with one accord in one place. 2And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a
rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting.
3And
there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each
of them. 4And
they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other
tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.”
Yes, I was born in and
grew up in a Pentecostal Family. My
maternal grandmother was the pastor of the local Pentecostal Church in the
little saw-mill town of Lacoochee, Florida.
Hearing people speak in tongues and seeing them dance ecstatically in
the spirit was as common for me as drinking water from a glass. Praying for the sick that resulted in Divine
Healing and miracles was not at all strange or different. I grew up thinking that this was the way
“church” was supposed to be. I have seen
people “slain in the Spirit” in the church as far back as I can remember. Let me give you some background to my faith.
Dad had left home at 15
and had become a “hobo” on the freight trains which traveled up and down the
eastern seaboard. There he learned to
smoke and drink and swear with his buddies. It was 1934-1937. When he and his friends would come back home
after a long trip they would play music to entertain the patrons in the dance
hall. He worked awhile in the Cummers
Saw Mill, where orange crates were made, making the fantastic sum of $9.00 per
week for a full week’s work. It wasn’t
long until he cut off the first joint of his index finger on the saw. He refused to go to a doctor but just stuck
the joint of his finger on, wrapped it in a wrag, poured on the rubbing
alchohol and let it heal back naturally.
“Natural” in this case turned out to be a crooked “pointing finger”. While playing his guitar in the dance hall in
the evenings, slipping a sip of whiskey from the bottle and getting himself
generally drunk - the little Pentecostal church across the railroad tracks
could be heard with characteristic singing, praying and shouting (in the old
time way) for, you see, it was summer and the windows were left open for
ventilation in the small wood-framed structure so typical of country churches
of that day. As Daddy explained it to
us, “While playing at the dancehall, when we heard a shout break out at the
church, we would run over and peep in the windows to watch the show!” While peeping in the window, Dad saw the
“most beautiful girl in the world” and was captivated by her beauty. He made up his mind that he wanted to get
better acquainted and soon learned that this 16 year old young lady was the
Pastor’s daughter.
“Sister” Jones was a very charismatic
leader. If you have had exposure to
almost any Christian church here in the Southeastern United States, you soon learn
that all Christians are called “Brother” or “Sister”. To me, Sister Jones was Grandma Jones. She was charismatic before most of us ever
knew what that word meant. She found out
that Louis could play the guitar and invited him to play with the church
band. I do not believe that was normal
for Pentecostal churches in those days for they were also “Holiness” churches
but this may give some insight into the wisdom of Pastor Jones. [“Holiness”: That will be a subject for a
later blog] She eventually won the young man to a deep experience with
Christ. During a Revival, while the
house was full of fervent worshippers, Dad had “slipped a sip or two” before
the meeting started. At one high point
of leading the service, Sister Jones, removed the fiddle from under her chin
and called out to the crowd, “Saints! I
feel the SPIRIT in this place tonight!”
Dad, by now feeling the effects of his “slippin’ and sippin’” shouted
back, “MEEEE TOOOOOO!” Grandma then called
to the congregation, “Praise God, Church!
The Spirit’s move is so powerful here that even these old sinners are
feeling it!” I’m not positive that it
was the same night – but during that or a similar service, the house was so
crowded that there was no room to sit in the back of the church. After playing his guitar for the
preliminaries he looked back for a place to sit down somewhere near the back of
the building. There might have been a
place he could have squeezed into but since he was a shy young man he wanted to
get into a seat and “out of sight” as quickly as possible. So – young Louis Brannen sat on the only
available seat – the front row! After
the sermon was finished a woman directly behind him leaned forward and half
whispered into his ear, asking, “Louis, don’t you want to go to the altar and
get saved?” When that happened, He says,
“The Devil said to me, ‘Just back-hand Sister Rosier in the face and tell her
NO!’” “I thought…now that wouldn’t be
right. I’m in the church house.” So instead of obeying the Devil, he obeyed
the Lord and, “took two steps and fell into the altar” where he was gloriously
converted.
Events moved swiftly. Louis was “Sanctified and Filled with the
Holy Ghost” with the evidence of speaking in other tongues as mentioned in Acts
2:4. This Glossalalia Phenomenon was for
the common man. Louis became a changed
man. He immediately stopped
drinking. No more cursing. No more smoking. Just like that. It was permanent. I was 60 years of age when he died and I can
honestly tell you that I never ever observed my Dad say or do anything that
would make me doubt his experience with the Lord. Soon he became the clerk of the church and
asked for the hand of Bonnie Jones in marriage.
He was just 20 years old. Bonnie
was 16 when they married. True to her
oft repeated words, “I’ll NEVER marry a preacher, she married this saw-mill
worker. However, it was only a few short
weeks after they were married that Daddy announced to the congregation that he
now felt “called” to preach. This was
the beginning of 62 years together in full-time ministry before Dad passed from
this life into the presence of his Savior.