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Primitive Baptist Church

12 August 2018 7

I grew up in this Primitive Baptist Church. Some of my earliest memories are big Sunday dinners, after a long sermon, on planks laid over saw horses, and covered by nice linen table cloths while being handed from arm to arm as men and women laid out, in their very best china, home-made delicious food. I remember being a little afraid, but so curious that I never cried or called out for Mom or Dad – just moving from stranger’s arms to stranger’s arms. The mood was always jovial and fun as everyone worked together, until dinner was ready to be served and the minister gave the blessing. What we now call lunch was dinner and supper was what we now call dinner.

This church was built by my great-grandfather and his brothers in 1923. It was a once a month church service and the minister who was called an Elder was “given” the message, from spirit, for the sermon and if they didn’t “receive” their sermon, they sat down. They believed in dreams and visions and understood that each of us was in direct connection with the Almighty. If no message was given we stood and sang hymns for an hour. No piano, no music, just pleasing strong voices singing as only true believers can sing; with a full heart.

I still love that Church.

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7

Lisa

13 August 2018, 8:55 am
Reply

My heart fills with joy and a bit of sadness when the memories flood back of standing next to my Grandfather and my Great Grandfather listening to their strong voices sing How Great Thou Art. Wonderful memories of the church, all fire and brimstone preaching. It was though the elder was preaching right to you, we used to duck behind the person in front and after the service the minister would say, I saw you ducking. Can’t hide from God. Give anything to experience it all over again.

Sandra Martin

14 August 2018, 12:00 pm
Reply

Yes my memories too. A great life.

Paula Wood

15 August 2018, 3:27 pm
Reply

Paula Wood I have very similar happy memories. Very grateful for simple, safe childhood. Only thing really missing at our house was money, but we didn’t need much for our activities.

Donald Bell

15 August 2018, 5:05 pm
Reply

My mother and her parents, Roy and Bertha Jones attended the Olive Branch Baptist Church in Blackridge. My Grandparents and great grandparents are buried in the cemetery behind the church. I have those same memories. But twice a year it was “revival” time when we had church every night. As a child of 7-8 years old, it felt like if you don’t join the church (to be baptised) during revival you would surely go to hell. Before these was a baptism facility behind the pulpit of the church, my Great Uncle Frank’s fish pond was used.