THE GOSPEL

In 1963, Dad purchased the Wright City Assembly of God parsonage for the magnificent sum of $500.

The "parsonage" was an old oil field house where the church allowed preachers to live rent free. I reckon the parishioners economic need overcame charitable inclinations. I find irony in the fact that the decades of preachers were displaced by Gene Waller, but you would have to have known Dad to enjoy the humor.

Anywho, to the point of this epistle. The former parsonage was about 20 feet from the back of the church. My Grandmother, Grandfather, mother, and other family members attended that church. Being in such close proximity, we naturally walked the 20 feet on Sunday morn, Sunday night, and for Wednesday night prayer meeting. If you are not familiar with services at an Assembly of God church, think SHOUTING, HOLLERING, and more SHOUTING! Really, it was a hoot?

Being a typical 13 year old boy, I figgered that was twice as much religion as needed, but I wasn't given a choice. Imagine my chagrin when revival came to town.

Revival meant a visiting preacher who traveled from town to town to preach (SHOUT) the Word. In Wright City, revival also meant church three times per day (morning, afternoon, and night) seven days per week.

Yep, my sinful butt got drug into that church 21 times per week til the revival went down the road to the next town. As I obviously can't blame being a mortal sinner on lack of preaching in my early life, I'll just continue asking the Lord's forgiveness and saving grace for my human failings.

The site of that house and church are just vacant pasture now, but I really feel that if I stood at that location, closed my eyes and drifted away, I could still hear the Gospel blasting the rafters.