My entire life has included going to church. I remember sitting between my grandmother and my great, grandmother when I was five years-old as I listened to the preacher and waited for that final song. I really did not mind the long sermons. I was enjoying the lovely fragrances of my grandmothers. I have always loved the atmosphere of a God-committed church.

Through the years, after we had moved away from my grandmothers, my sister and I always attended church in the new place we moved to. It was not always with our mother. There were times that Deb and I would catch a ride with other church members. We had three younger brothers and it was difficult for mama to clothe and feed everyone, let alone buy church clothes for all six of us. We attended many different denominations through the years. Once, Deb and I had gone with a lady in our new community. She begged mama to let us go to one evening service of her church to see if we would enjoy going. Deb was nine and I was eight years-old. The church was one known as a "Holy Roller Pentecostal". Everything started out okay, but as the service heated up, there were people speaking in unknown tongues, shouting in the isles, and crying and undulating between the pews. Since all the ladies had long hair piled high upon their heads with bobby-pins, those pins came flying at Deb and me as the ladies around us got worked up.

We both slipped to the floor and crawled under the pews where we stayed until church was over. Of course, we elected to never visit with the kind lady at her church ever again. Never-the-less, through the years, Deb and I have received a good dose of church and even a little bit of understanding. After spending over twenty-eight years in a structured church environment, teaching, leading, planning, and other works, I came to realize that my church experience was so structured that the Spirit could not move or act in a mighty way. Everything was so well choreographed that we left no place for God or Christ to speak or move about. After moving to the mountains of North Georgia, I have found a small, white wooden church atop a knoll that over-looks a beautiful valley. This church has stood for over 200 years without indoor toilets or central heat and air until 2003. There are not many members of this branch of God's church still living. Even with new members, we only number around twenty-eight. We attend every Sunday morning for services. Our pastor and his wife are in their eighties. He preaches every other Sunday, but we have Sunday School every Sunday.

As you enter the church, the Spirit of the Lord fills your soul. We have no restrictions, no planned to the last detail type of services. If the Lord does not give our Pastor a message, he does not preach a message. How awesome it is to hear the Spirit manifested through Bro. Roy. Often, we have many retired pastors visit with us for service. Sometimes they are led to speak God's word. When we leave from church on Sunday morning, we do not meet again until the next Sunday. We have no night services. We don't need to. We are fed by the word of God to give us strength to go forth and be doers of the word. Where in God's word has it ever implied that Christians should meet every Sunday morning, every Sunday night, every Wednesday night, and sometimes Tuesday and Thursday nights for practices, meetings and what-have-you? These are man's rules. If man took a moment and looked around at our nation, he would see that his church isn't working.

Too much church does not make a better Christian. A simple gathering together of the members of God's Church on Sunday morning is sufficient. For the first time in many years, I look forward to meeting in God's House. I long for the time with my church family. Too much church playing is accomplishing nothing. I love the old ways which are true to the Spirit. I pray that more and more Christians will break away from traditions of today and return to the small country church of yesterday when everyone looked forward to meeting with family and God.

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