CHURCH: A BIBLICAL HISTORY OF HORROR, HURT, HOPE AND HEALING

CHURCH: A BIBLICAL HISTORY OF HORROR, HURT, HOPE AND HEALING

 ( The tapestry of the Tabernacle)

The tapestry of the Tabernacle sits on the ground that ain't no thing but fair in Franklin Tennessee. It's the sacred place where my large extended family gathers for this, that and the other.

My fondest memory is the carnival like atmosphere once created annually every single Labor Day Weekend. The Tent meetings would be so large, we would park cars all up and down Fair Ground Street. From, my great grands on one side of the street to my great grands on the other side of the street we would park cars. The money we made from parking cars was quickly and quietly spent buying cotton candy, snow cones and pop corn! 

The people of God would travel from anywhere and everywhere for the annual tent meeting association gathering. The WORD was freely preached by men continually and constantly over the long holiday weekend. 

After parking cars, the children and the grandchildren of old man D McCullough would often gather on the front porch of the house and watched the male and female fashions make their way to the annual gathering of worshipers. Many of our family members were among the gathering. But, since we were privilege to be housed, almost right across the street, traveling was not a care or a concern for most of my family. At the time the last of the Franklin Boarding Houses shared the property with the Tabernacle and some of the travelers  boarded there for the weekend. 

The slightly autumn crisp air on the ground that ain't no thing but fair was thick with honor and reverence for the LORD and the Tabernacle which stood in wait all year, for the annual gathering.

All, the hands and also the heads of the women were covered in the most amazing and stylish hats. The ushers stood tall in starched black clothing, all day on their posts gladly greeting all, with white gloved hands. 

My fondest happy memories are mixed and mingled with the horror and hurt of the sting and string of death, as both of my paternal grandparents, and many aunts and uncles were casketed and marched up and down the middle isle at the Tabernacle on the ground which ain't no thing but fair.

As a family, we elders are now the tapestry remnant of the current and fore-mentioned Tabernacle which joys to minister hope and healing despite our unmentioned noted history of hurt and horror.