Tent Revival

    The talk all month had been centered on the coming tent revival. I had seen a big

tent before, but I had never actually gone to a tent revival.  I was only eight years old and

did not properly understand what was happening, but I knew I was going to singing,

shouting, and playtime with my friends.

     I had been attending Park View Baptist Church when we met on Sundays at

Barfield Youth Center with my Mom and Dad.  One of my friend's father, Pat Maisto,

sang in the choir and I looked forward to singing of any kind. I am not sure, but I think

the preacher, Mr. Lineberger, was the evangelist, but I couldn't even pronounce the word,

let along understand it. I had truly only been trained on being good, as I tried to be for

Saint Nick, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy; so, I was ill-prepared to hear about such

things as sin and salvation.

      The tent was set up where the present auditorium is and the choir loft and pulpit

were constructed at the front and rows of chairs lined to the back of the tent.  I sat on the

front row with my friend Ricky Maisto and two of my cousins; my sister Joanne sat down

the aisle and my Dad sat on the row behind us.  In this way, my Dad could watch us from

the back while Ricky's dad could keep an evil eye on us from the choir loft.

     The furthest thing from my mind was a confrontation with God, but somewhere between

"Amazing Grace" and "Have Thine Own way, Lord", I was filled with the desire to be

near enough to God to be able to find out Who He is. I charged out at the invitation and

approached the Evangelist telling him how bad I had been and how I wanted to change.

     It was all a whirlwind after that.  I had made a public profession of faith; my mom

and dad explained what they would now expect of me; I presented myself for church

membership, and was baptized at St. Paul's Methodist Church at a baptism service within

a month.  I thought to myself then, "God waits for no one and nothing when He is ready."

     I have been much more blessed than most because I have had this experience

twice more in my life. When I was 16, I was at my cousin Eddie's church revival when

the Lord confirmed His forgiveness, and demanded I rededicate my life to Him; I could

not wait for the invitation to run to the altar, fall to my knees, and beg for the forgiveness

and blessing He promised me. My grandfather came down, introduced me and cried and

prayed with me.

      When I was about 25, the Lord met me again in Eddie's church and convicted me

of my backslidden, sinful nature and brought me once again to be baptized.  I did not need

to come to the Lord the last two times.  I wa rescued when I was eight and all my future

sins were forgiven, but I had to come forward the other two times to seal my commitment

to Him in my own mind.