Happy 135th Anniversary to the Donelson Church of Christ

Yesterday was a really special day. At the Donelson Church of Christ--where I grew up--we celebrated the 135th anniversary of the congregation. I had received a call from one of the elders a few days ago, inviting me and my wife to be there. This is a congregation that will always have a special place in my heart.

They invited back two of our former preachers: Bob Hendren, who had preached at Donelson for almost 20 years, leaving around 1989, and Randy Harris, who preached for about 9 years, leaving around 1999.

Bob Hendren was the reason my parents began attending Donelson, a year or so before I was born. As the saying goes, "He can read Greek better than you can read English." A Greek Bible was all he ever carried to the pulpit with him. He even taught several of the members Greek while he was at Donelson, and many of them are quite good at this point. He is a brilliant speaker and thinker. I had been very young when he left, but it surprised me how familiar he felt. It was like I had traveled back in time. At Donelson, we always held our ministers in extremely high esteem, and I think Bob was a large contributor to this, if not the reason for this. He was very influential, but he was the type of person who could be trusted with influence. He wasn't pushing an agenda other than the cause of Christ. He almost always preached expository lessons, just trying to help the congregation have good theology and a good knowledge of Scripture. Under his leadership, the congregation was the largest that it ever was. Many of us still think of Bob Hendren's tenure as the "good old days." I've mentioned him several times on my blog, and have even retyped some of the things he's published about Grace and Baptism, which are really brilliant.

Randy Harris followed Bob. Randy is an interesting individual. While he preached for us, he was also teaching full-time at Lipscomb University. We take a lot of pride in Randy, because even though he's very widely popular now, he was much less known when he started working with us, and we feel like we helped him grow a lot pastorally, if nothing else. When he first arrived, he was a bit socially awkward. But by the time he left, he was the one who dressed up as the Easter Bunny for the kids egg hunt in the Spring! He even started an annual tradition of taking our 2nd graders bowling. He is single by choice--which I really wish we would do a better job of honoring in the Church. I'll never forget the time he invited some of us in the youth group over to his house. He had a portrait in his bedroom of Friedrich Nietzsche which he sometimes speaks to, vowing to fight the philosophies that Nietzsche promoted. If my memory serves me right, he also had a painting of a person who was chained under water to the ocean floor, about to give up his last breath. The purpose of this is to remind him of how helpless we would be without God to save us. He also collects monk figurines, chess sets, and lava lamps. Randy seems to always do everything the way he does for a purpose. When he was struggling early in his ministry, he commited himself to praying for Donelson at least one hour a day--and it might have been two, though I can't remember exactly. He is a very contemplative Christian, and a great spiritual mentor. Near the end of his time at Donelson, while Randy was trying to get me to go to Lipscomb and study under him, I was deciding to go to Harding, but when he suddenly decided to move to Abilene, then he couldn't give me too much of a hard time about it. He's been missed.

At Donelson on Sunday, Randy preached, then Bob taught class. As I listened to both of them, it hit me just how much each of these men has influenced me. I always grew up thinking that ministers should be Greek experts like Bob, and I ended up majoring in Biblical languages. I've also got a strong affinity for studying theology, and I've noticed I tend to be drawn toward the stuff that Randy would always talk about. I think I'm endebted to Donelson for giving me the opportunity to grow up hearing these two theological giants all of my life.

As a blog post this long is obviously much more for my sake than for yours, I'm going to list a few moments yesterday that really struck me.

• The moment that hit me the most was at the beginning of Randy's lesson. We sang a newer song about Blessed Be The Name Of The Lord. In the last section of the song, it repeats the phrase several times that God "gives and takes away." Each time we sang those words, there were two images listed above them on the slides. One was of a newborn baby, and the other was of a person who has died in the last few years. I simply was not emotionally prepared for this, and nor were many of my peers. The second picture they used was of Dan Midget, who has always been one of my favorite people. He died very quickly of a brain tumor while I was in high school, and I still mourn his loss. Also pictured was Erdner Jones, who used to work with Dan in directing our church camp program. When I run my camp, I spend so much time thinking about, "How would Mr. Midget and Mr. Jones handle this?" They also pictured Sid & Bailey. These were two old men who were brothers, and were also slightly mentally handicapped. I always shook their hands every Sunday. They were so friendly and positive. I used to get tickled at them when I would pass the communion trays on their row. One or both of them would always be sound asleep, and then would have to wake up the other one. Then there was Cliff and Lil Balduff. Every single Sunday morning when I was little, they gave me hugs and talked to me, and gave me a little pack of gum. They both had thick northern accents, and I loved them so much. In appreciation for the gum, I used to draw pictures for them on the back of attendance cards. I had been gone for so long, the reality had never sunk in for me that they're both now deceased. They showed Tom Neil, who used to always run the show at fellowship meals, and used to always make us young ones stop playing basketball while people were trying to eat. Also they showed Doug Pippen, who died just a few years ago of cancer. Our family was very, very close to him, and his wife is one of my mother's best friends. That one was more than Carolina could handle, because Mr. Pippen died about a year after Carolina's mother did, and she spent a lot of time trying to encourage the Pippens, because she could relate to them. There were others, but seeing so many people I miss so much in short 3-4 second bursts was more than I could handle. I couldn't sing, my eyes teared up, and I had to look away. It was meaningful, but a little warning would have been nice. I hadn't realized how much I still miss these people.
  
  
• Randy had some great thoughts about reflecting on the world we live in. He made the point that no matter who's elected, the world is always going to be messed up. He told us what he said to his students, "If you don't believe me when I say that this election really doesn't matter much more than any other election, I have two words to convince you: 'Chester Arthur.' They say, 'Who?' and I say, 'Exactly!' He was supposedly a really important President and you don't even know who he is!" The main gist of his message is that it's important to remember the past, but we've got to follow the example of Jesus in John 21. Peter's sin was a given, but in that conversation they focussed on the present and the future. We've got to be willing to let go of our shortcomings, and to decide that we are going to live like Christ right now.
  
  
• Bob spoke about how we can find the best way to unite the world. He mentioned Fred Craddock's efforts to interpret Scripture doxologically, looking for reaons to praise God, rather than looking for ways to argue with people. He layed out several approaches that haven't worked, such as wisdom and power. Education is important, but it isn't the solution. Power seems like a solution, but it comes up short. He shared some great quotes from historical leaders like Napoleon. My favorite was something Napoleon said after he lost his empire. He spoke about how men like himself had built vast empires using power, and having the biggest battalions. But Jesus Christ was a peasant, and using love and mercy had established an empire of millions that was still standing. Bob has such a bredth of knowledge about so many things. As he talks, he constantly is throwing in little quotes from classical literature, from operas, from history, and some in other languages. The rapid fire fashion at which he's able to do this is really astounding.

It was a very good Sunday to have been there. There were a lot of people who haven't been around in a long time who were there, and it was great to see them. Not many congregations can claim a history as long and robust as Donelson's, and I'm proud to be able to claim them as part of who I am.

Conversations In A Car In Mozambique, Africa

My dad just got home from visiting missionaries in Mozambique, Africa. For any of you Hardingites, the Donelson Church of Christ sponsors Alan and Rachel Howell. My dad really enjoyed his trip, and says that they're doing a great job down there.

I wanted to recount an experience that my dad had. They were all piled in a car, driving to another town. My dad was in the back seat, in between two Africans, who were constantly chattering in their language.

A lot of people are paranoid when they can't understand what other people are saying. Having learned a small amount of Spanish, I've learned that we need not worry about what they're saying most of the time. In fact, it's a bit arrogant to always assume that people are "talking about me". Nonetheless, when you can't understand any of what is being said right beside you, it can be a little uncomfortable; especially if they start laughing.

Stereotypically, I think we like to imagine people from other cultures talking about noble things. In movies, Chinese men are always droning out about their "honor" or ancestors. Indians are always recounting creation stories about origins of bears, birds, or men. So my dad was obviously wondering what these men could be talking about in the car with foreigners from the United States.

After the two guys beside my dad had talked for a while, Alan spoke up and said, "Would you like to know what these guys are saying?" Dad said, "Sure." Alan recounted what they had been talking about, and their conversation went something like this:

Man 1: This ride is taking a while.

Man 2: Yeah I know!

Man 1: I'm sure glad we didn't bring Kimbe along. He's getting old, and he always needs to stop and pee.

Man 2: I know! He does! Every time we take him anywhere, he always has to stop and pee at least once every hour. It's so annoying!

Man 1: Yeah. It's a good thing we didn't bring him.

Man 2: Yeah. (pauses) Um... now that you mention it, I really need to stop and pee.

Man 1: Actually, so do I!

Man 2: What are we going to do? We can't stop here.

Man 1: I don't know! But I really need to go.

Man 2: Maybe we can stop at the edge of town and I can pee beside the bus stop.

Man 1: You might could, but if you do and an authority sees you, he'll fine you $12.

Man 2: $12! I can't afford that! What am I going to do? I've got to pee!

Man 1: Maybe there will be a business with a public restroom.

Man 2: I don't know of any! What are we going to do? I can't hold it much longer.

Man 1: Let's just try to hold it for now, and we'll figure out what to do when we get there.

Man 2: I'll try, but I don't know if I can!

I don't know if anyone will find that amusing besides me, but I enjoyed it.

The History of Donelson, Una, and Pleasant Hill churches of Christ

I was so excited the other day. I have always wondered how my home congregation got started. I knew we had a history that went back well over 100 years, but I didn't know of anyone who knew how it got started. I was searching through ancient Gospel Advocates, looking for something completely different, then something about "Donelson" caught my eye. Sure enough, it was about my own congregation and how it got started. I printed it, and now I've retyped it (those microfilm copies are always terrible). I'm pasting it below for anyone who cares to read it...it's a fascinating story from an eye-witness and participant.

From the Gospel Advocate June 8, 1916. Volume 58, Pages 562-563.

Retyped by Mark S. Adams

“From Dan to Beersheba:” Or, From Donelson To Una. 1865-1872.

By Howell

It is often said that the aged delight in reminiscences. What if they do! It is right and proper for them and helpful to their progeny. To study and think of the successes and failures of those who have led in any good work of long, long ago is profitable to the young. If the succeeding generations do not profit by the experiences and observations of their ancestors, it will be more difficult to make progress in anything, material or spiritual. Real progress consists in learning and applying God’s material and spiritual laws to one’s thoughts and actions. Between the two there is a striking analogy, wholesome to study, giving one a higher conception of both.

Guided by the above principles, I ask the reader to follow me in a few reminiscences of the writer regarding the preparatory work in sowing the seed of the kingdom of Christ and the planting of three churches in an area of country reaching from Donelson on the north to Una on the south, embracing the contiguous country, making several square miles. Donelson, a little town seven miles east of Nashville on the Lebanon pike , is situated on a rim of a declivity which reaches the waters of the historical Stone River, about three miles from where it empties into the classical Cumberland.

We begin our narrative early in the month of June, 1865, at the home of William Dudley Baker, a farmer, who lived one and one-half miles southeast of Donelson. At this time Mr. Baker was fifty-three years of age, the father of eight children, having married at the age of nineteen. He was a zealous and active member of a large church congregation near by, the name of which is not recorded in the Book of God, neither did the individual members wear a name given by God or Christ. While Mr. Baker was a voracious reader, especially of the Bible and matter pertaining to it, he, like his brethren, had only a vague idea of the relation of faith, obedience, and salvation from sin as taught by Christ and his apostles. However, in one respect he was far in advance of his brethren of that day in that he had a conviction that the “mourners’-bench system” of “getting religion” was out of harmony with the teaching and practices of the apostles and early Christians. Sometimes he would express his views on this matter, especially to his preaching brethren. For this some of his brethren called him a “Campbellite.” He knew he was not a “Campbellite;” therefore these unkind thrusts did not move or intimidate him. He had never heard a “Campbellite” preach, nor had he read any literature from these “scarecrows.” However, he had heard that there were such people, and he had the traditional belief that with them baptism was the only indispensable condition of salvation.

In the protracted meetings, called “big meetings,” under the popular preaching and practices of those days, there was a cleared space fronting the pulpit, covered half-leg-deep with straw, with benches bordering the same, called “mourners’ benches.” These preparations were indispensable to their “getting religion” on those occasions. The benches served the purpose of giving rest to the mourner’s head and arms while he knelt upon the straw. The straw served another and a more important purpose. The shouting convert would often become so violently agitated that he would frequently fall prostrate upon the floor, the straw protecting him from physical injury. This preparation was a wise provision, we all must admit.

While these disorderly conditions were prevalent, in the early part of June, 1865, a stranger, weary, footsore, and hungry, called at Mr. Baker’s home and asked for a night’s lodging, saying he had no money. He was cordially received into the home. At this demonstration of ready hospitality the stranger in apt and fitting words expressed his appreciation. It was noticeable that, while the stranger was poorly dressed, his words and demeanor indicated that he was a cultivated and well-bred man. The stranger said his name was “Wright” and his home was in Missouri; that he had been in the Confederate Army four years performing the duty of chaplain and looking after the sick and wounded in the department to which he had been assigned, and that he was on his way home. When asked what sort of preacher he was, he replied, “A Christian,” stating that he was a Christian only, and that he endeavored to preach after the manner and instructions of the apostles of Christ; but that many people called him a “Campbellite,” which he repudiated. Presto! Here, right under his roof, Mr. Baker had caught the sure-enough thing. Under his own roof, with his stalwart boys about him, he felt secure. Now was his opportunity to hear what the “Campbellites” really believed and taught; so, plying questions, the good brother covered the subjects pretty well by midnight. The effect upon the host was such that he did not want to go to bed at all, but in deference to his tired guest he desisted for the present. The following morning the stranger was reminded that he needed more rest and therefore, was asked to remain a few days and preach in the home at night. This proposition he gladly accepted. The neighbors were accordingly invited, several of whom came regularly for six nights. By this time the light of truth began to disturb Mr. Baker’s former views on several points. This experience awakened an active desire to hear more; consequently he subscribed for the Gospel Advocate, which was then in its babyhood, so to speak. A little later he sought and met its editor, David Lipscomb, securing a promise from him to preach in his community as soon as arrangements could be made for a meeting place. Efforts were made to secure a meetinghouse near by, but because of the opposition and influence of the preacher in charge they failed. Then arrangements were made for Brother Lipscomb to preach in Mr. Baker’s home, returning each morning to his office in the city. These appointments continued at intervals until the audience became too large for the home.

One and one-half miles still farther along the line from Donelson to Una a log schoolhouse, known as “Pleasant Hill,” was secured for Brother Lipscomb. Several meetings were held here by him, with an occasional addition to the church of Christ, until May, 1870, when a protracted effort was made, resulting in thirty-six additions, the writer being one of that number.

Before this move to Pleasant Hill, E. G. Sewell filled an appointment for Brother Lipscomb at Mr. Baker’s home. In his discourse he spoke of the importance of Christian unity and how to attain it without giving up one Bible fact, practice, or commandment. In concluding his sermon, holding the open Bible in his hand, he said in substance that if any one present would meet him on the Bible, agreeing to take it as his only counsel in teaching and working, speak where it speaks, keep silent where it is silent, to manifest it by coming forward and placing his hand on the open Bible beside his. At this Mr. Baker arose and went forward, saying, “Brother Sewell, I accept and meet you on that proposition,” placing his hand beside that of Brother Sewell. This act was all Mr. Baker ever did from that night until his death, twenty-four years afterwards, toward joining anything, yet he was excluded from his former church connection on the charge of “joining the ‘Campbellites.’”

The circumstances and incidents attending his exclusion were both dramatic and pathetic. The charge was formulated, read, and prosecuted by the pastor of the said church before a large audience. The whole affair appeared to the unbiased as a ludicrous performance, although many tears were shed. After reading the charge as given, the pastor called for a motion to “exclude Brother Baker from the fellowship of the church.” Everybody remained as silent as a death chamber. The call was repeated; no response. The third call was made, whereupon the pastor himself made the motion, which was out of the regular order of the church usage. Then a call for a second to the motion was made. The accused himself seconded the motion. Then a vote was called for. Out of the large membership present, there was but one vote cast, and that by the first cousin of the wife of the accused. As it was according to the polity of this church to decide all questions coming before it by a majority vote, the one vote, of course, was the majority cast; therefore the brother was duly excluded. Within three or four years after this event the voter on this occasion became identified with the church we read about in the New Testament. Hence he came again into full fellowship with Brother Baker.

During the popular “big meetings” of that day the preachers rarely, if ever, preached about the love and mercy of God, but represented God as an angry, vengeful God. The devil was depicted in terms most horrifying. The effect on the callow youth and the more ignorant and superstitious ones was the fear of physical punishment of an outraged, angry God. The fact that “Satan sometimes fashions himself into an angel of light,” and that “It is no great thing therefore if his ministers also fashion themselves as ministers of righteousness, whose end shall be according to their work” (2 Cor. 1:14, 15), was rarely presented.

After establishing an active, working church at Pleasant Hill, a successful move was made to plant a New Testament church at Donelson. An old house once used as a “tavern” was secured for a meeting place. David Lipscomb, who had been so true and self-denying at the other two places, came to the rescue again. One night while preaching to a crowded room, a rich and well-known bachelor who was addicted to the liquor habit pressed his way through the audience in an intoxicated condition, an, on arriving at the side of Brother Lipscomb, placed his hand upon Brother Lipscomb’s shoulder, saying: “You’re a good ‘un.” Addressing him gently, Brother Lipscomb asked him to have a seat. The man quietly seated himself and remained seated. Occasionally, however, smiling, winking, and nodding, he seemed to say: “I’m of the same opinion still.”

In the latter part of the summer, 1870, Brother Lipscomb was driving from Nashville to Scobey’s Chapel, in Wilson County. While stopping at a blacksmith’s shop near Donelson to have his horse shod, he engaged in a conversation with the smith, and the blacksmith learned that he was a preacher and on his way to an appointment. Mistaking him for a well-known Methodist preacher who occasionally came this way, he began saying some hard things abut the “Campbellites,” among which he said: “We beat the biggest Campbellite in this country last week for magistrate.” Being asked his name, he replied: “Squire Baker.” Brother Lipscomb departed without making known his identity. “Squire Baker” had served his county for twenty successive years as magistrate, and his defeat at this time was due to his religious views. After two years he was re-elected twice, resigning during his last term.

The “tavern” before mentioned belonged to some heirs and was for sale. To stop preaching in the house, two men, otherwise truthful and honorable, notified the brethren on the day before Brother E.G. Sewell was to begin a meeting in it that the house had been purchased by them and could not be used. The following year, in assessing property for taxation, these men disclaimed owning the property. Dr. E.E. Buchanan, a successful practicing physician of the town and an official member of a denominational church, so keenly felt the unfairness of such treatment that he offered the use of his beautifully shaded yard, which was accepted. Ere long he, his wife, and several of his children threw off the yoke of sectarianism and became Christians only. He died some years later, full of faith and hope of life eternal. A truer and better man never lived in any community. Dr. William Boyd, a well-known physician of Donelson and a member of the board of trustees of the Fanning Orphan School, married his daughter.

There is a section of country extending from the Fanning Orphan School to Una, paralleling the Murfreesboro pike, known as “Nubbin Ridge.” When this appellation was first given goes beyond the memory of the living. Why so called no one seems to know. It is a land pleasing to the sight and has always been occupied by a law-abiding citizenship. It is true that long ago it could not claim a denizen fitted to be called a “philosopher,” as it can at this time. (Thanks to David, Jr.)

Near where the Una church house now stands, under the shade of the majestic oaks, the towering poplars, with here and there the less imposing, but more beautiful, dogwood in flower, two young men, students of Franklin College, Granville, Lipscomb and T. B. Larimore, had an appointment to preach on a Sunday in the latter half of May, 1867. On this occasion the writer had his first view of these aspiring young men. The writer was then enjoying that period of life experienced by every young man when his ideals are far in advance of his ideas, when nothing escapes his sight, but much eludes his understanding. To him the sun shines brighter, the girls appear prettier; in fact, all nature is a panorama of music and poetry.

Granville Lipscomb (father of Editor A. B. Lipscomb) preached on this day. He was a young man of strong and handsome physique—ruddy and of quick motion. His voice was clear and distinct, bounding among the stately trees of the forest. Occasionally it would attain the height of eloquence. In one of these flights he endeavored to quote a passage of scripture to seal his thought in the hearts of his hearers. Failing to remember a portion of it, he made a second attempt with no better result. Just at this embarrassing point Brother Larimore, who was sitting near him, with that voice and enunciation which are so well known and pleasing to his hearers, quoted the passage in full for him. Unabashed, the speaker continued his discourse. Many years later, at the period of his greatest power and usefulness, Brother Lipscomb was a victim of an insidious disease which walketh at night and wasteth at noonday,” and loves the strong and plethoric.” His companion of that occasion is yet spared to preach “the unsearchable riches of Christ.” He is now advanced into the sear leaf of age, with undiminished power and eloquence in the Scriptures. With an eloquence unsurpassed he has preached “from Canada to Cuba, from Main to Mexico.”

At the beginning of our reminiscences there were only two churches in Davidson County which wore the divine name exclusively—one white and one colored in the city of Nashville. Now, in the year 1916, there are approximately forty.