This will be my last one about church- I promise. STAN Revival meetings were special times, a real win-win situation. Young people looked forward to them because many youngsters, particularly girls, were never allowed to go anywhere but church. Not only did the young people have two weeks extra during which they could meet and know one another, the evangelists were served up with a house full of young pagans in need of salvation. Salvation, as often as not, did not stick, and many backslidden Christians came back again and again from one revival to the next for refresher courses. A typical revival meeting began with lots of singing. Several boys could be found lining the back pews on either side of the aisle. The “wayward” girls of the community chose seats in the pews directly in front of the boys, while, except for an occasional glance back at the rogue’s gallery, the “good” girls sat dutifully by their mothers farther up front. After some extremely emotional singing and the mood was set, the visiting evangelist began to preach. And he preached. And he preached, and .... . By the time he passed Psalms on his way through the Bible, I was ready to bail out. Too many of our Appalachian self-trained preachers liked to ramble a lot. Finally, just before he was totally exhausted, the evangelist, assisted by leaders of the church, extended an alter call. The congregation began singing “Just as I Am” and dedicated church members spread out all over the church in search of people who showed signs of “being under conviction.” The back rows became very crowded, as Christians and sinners met. Members stood and talked at length to the ones they had targeted in efforts to get them to “walk the aisle” and give their hearts to Jesus. No “unsaved” person escaped these confrontations. This was always a very uncomfortable time for me as I felt no desire to put myself on display and be embarrassed in front of all those people by going up front and humbling myself at the alter. I believe some may have responded as a means of getting rid of their tormentors. In typical fashion two lady church members were discussing a previous night’s service. One was heard to explain how hard my friend Virgil had resisted the Holy Spirit. She said, “ He held onto the pew in front of him so tight that his knuckles were blue and I thought he would break the pew.” Virgil’s account was different, “How could I listen to the Holy Spirit when all I could think of was how pretty she was.” When everyone was tired of singing a bunch of sad songs, and it was obvious that all unsaved persons left standing had hardened their hearts, and got a good grip on the back of the pew in front of them, all the Christians gathered around those kneeling at the alter and prayed until they had all “prayed through.” If they prayed an inordinate amount of time with an individual, everyone knew they were dealing with one evil dude. At the conclusion, each of those saved was expected to give a testimony. Many spoke of their wicked pasts as if they were proud of them, and each speaker seemed to outdo the previous one by explaining how much more wicked he was and why God had to perform a particularly difficult miracle to turn him around. It could be a very long night. If they had got Virgil up front, the service would surely have lasted until dawn, and then there may have been a sin or two that he forgot to mention. The revivals always lasted for two weeks and culminated on the last Sunday with baptisms of the new believers in the Laurel Fork out behind the church. Many revivals ended with dinner on the ground. For anyone familiar with potluck meals and rural West Virginia pride in cooking, I need not elaborate further than to say it was the highlight of the year. Jesus himself must have been proud of his servants; they could have served him well at the feeding of the five thousand. My light-hearted descriptions may appear sacrilegious to some. However, it is not my intention to poke fun at anyone. These people, many of whom I idolized as a youth, were serious about carrying out God’s commands as they understood them. I don’t think I have altered any facts or fictionalized any attitudes; what I have described is a typical “ole timey” church revival in Appalachia in the 1940’s.