Terry
The Covenant
The fires were still raging and the sky was painted red from the seasoned pine and oak boards that once contained productive businesses and homes but now were a city of blazing infernos. Bright glowing silhouettes’ were all that trailed the deadly Union Army troops that marched through the vast beauty of Georgia. The sweet smell of honey suckles and magnolia blossoms were replaced with charred wood and decaying bodies. General Sherman and his northern armies had indeed taken their toll as they burned, killed and destroyed everything in their path. Everything except a small Methodist church in the middle of downtown Kennesaw Mountain Georgia that is. The white washed doors were tattered and chipped from a stray bullet or two. The smoke of a burning cotton warehouse that once stood three stories tall not more than fifty feet away blackened the paint on the outer walls. The six foot steeple that contained the brass bell was fully intact with only a flesh wound of an impacted unexploded round iron cannon ball. Yet this little plain house of worship was standing and inside a full congregation was in place. You see these men and women of God were here during the entire battle and never once did they have an urge to flee. This was a day for miracles here at Kennesaw Community Methodist Church. But then let me tell you the whole story.
It was early in the morning on June 18,1864 when Pastor Wilfred Thomas entered into his little church to pray and ask for Gods mercy on this little community. All last night Pastor Thomas could hear the cannons blazing across the valley up on Pine and Lost Mountain. Many messages were coming to town about the advance of the Union Army and the retreat of the Confederate army towards Kennesaw Mountain. At night the gentle red glow of fires could be seen for miles of the burning towns and homes that lay in the path of these deadly forces. Food these days was a precious commodity and horses were almost an impossibility to find at any price. Most of the people left in Kennesaw were the women, children, and elderly that were too weak to move out of the range of certain death. For weeks now Pastor Thomas asked God to show mercy on his people. The pastor knew what would one day be coming down the red Georgia clay road and he knew without God’s divine intervention, many would be lost. This day Pastor Thomas turned in his worn leather bound word of God and the scripture leaped out of the pages straight into his eyes. Isaiah 54:17, No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongues shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn.This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their righteousness is of me,saith the LORD. Pastor Thomas was indeed encouraged this day. The LORD had given these words to him when he needed them most. Being ever so careful not to displease the LORD, Wilfred again got on his knees and asked the LORD for just one confirmation. As he arose to his feet the tongue and grove knotty pine floors creaked with the weight of foot steps behind him. It was old brother Jake, a devoted and retired man of God. “Pastor Thomas” Jake shouted, “I have heard from God this morning and he gave me a scripture to share with you. It is Isaiah 54:17.” Pastor Thomas was elated; there was so much to do. He called a church meeting this afternoon at 3:00 and needed all of his flock to be sure to attend. Pastor hurried down to the mercantile store and bought their last jar of oil. Mr. Darcy told the determined Pastor that the oil was intended to lubricate machinery and not to cook with and Pastor Thomas assured him there would be no cooking, how ever this could very well be the most important oil to have ever entered into Kennesaw Mountain. Mr. Darcy just scratched his head and went back to sweeping the front boardwalk of his store nervously.
At 3:00 sharp in the afternoon the little church was full to capacity. There were folks that Pastor Thomas had not seen in ages sitting and waiting for some word of comfort to be spoken into their ears. Many had already lost their sons to this now lost cause and now that the battle was coming closer, feared they may lose the rest of their families. Pastor Thomas rose from his chair and the congregation instantly quieted as if not desiring to miss a single word of the Lord’s deliverer. “ Mah deah brothers and sistaahs, I have asked you all heah in order that I may share with you a plan our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ has laid upon mah heart. I want you all to go to your homes and gathuh your food and supplies and bring them heah to the church by 8:00 tonight. At this time we will close our doors and begin to worship our Lord until the sounds of war can be heard no more. At 7:00 this evenin, I would like foa the decon board to join me here in anointing each board of our church building. The Lord has spoken to me and assured me that if we will carry out this task, we will be spared. I am sorry my beloveds, but there will be no admittance to this building aftah 8:00 this evenin.” At the conclusion of his speech, not a word was uttered. Within a few more minutes the people began to scurry out the door with little discussion to carry out the task set before them. At 7:00 sharp the pastor and deacons began to anoint every piece of wood with the blessed oil. Ever floorboard, every roof joist, every wooden shingle, even the little outhouse behind the structure was awarded a hearty splash of oil. Make shift curtains were fashion with blankets and sheets to cover every window and then they too were covered in oil. At the conclusion of the anointing, Pastor Thomas stood back and looked upon the structure and prayed “Our dear Father in Heaven, we are but lowly servants of thine and humbly ask thy Angels to watch over this thy temple of worship. Grant us this day oh Lord your mercies that we may not perish but live to Glorify thy Holy name. Amen.” As Pastor Thomas finished a strong warm breeze blew across the grounds as if to seal the covenant with the Lord.
At 8:00 sharp, Pastor Thomas took out his beat up old gold pocket watch from his vest pocket and with his other hand he pulled to the creaking old door until the clank of the latch was heard. A door bar was dropped across the center and the church was locked down. Sister Blackwell came to the old pump organ and began to play Amazing Grace. The congregation soon joined in and the presence of the Holy Spirit of God could be felt in this place. In the distance the sound of blazing cannons could be heard getting closer and closer. It seemed the closer the shots came the louder the people sang. Several times the sounds of clattering brogans could be heard marching across the street and onto the steps of the church, only to suddenly retreat down the red clay road. The smell of cigar was even detected a time or two from a soldier who was seeking cover from a stray bullet around the corner of the sturdy little structure. During this furious battle, not one pane of glass was broken. Not one time did anyone attempt to break down the door. It was as if neither side could even see the church for what it was. Pastor Thomas was convinced that no one outside could even hear a note that was sung or a word that was spoken this day. He opened his text and began to read from the book of Exodus chapter 12, verse 23.For the LORD will pass through to smite the Egyptians; and when he seeth the blood upon the lintel, and on the two side posts, the LORD will pass over the door, and will not suffer the destroyer to come in unto your house to smite you.
For eight days the Battle waged on and on the ninth day there was the sound of birds in the air. The battle was over. General Sherman had backed his lines away from the well dug in earth works of the Confederate troops. The food was all but gone and it was at last time to open the doors. As the people of the little fortress church began to come out, confederate soldiers watched in amazement. Where had these people all been all this time? Not one private or General alike ever even remembered seeing the little church sitting there. The town was a shambles and there was but a couple buildings even salvageable but the Kennesaw Methodist Church was a beacon in the darkness of destruction. Soon the good people of Kennesaw were all standing in the street and Pastor Wilfred Thomas led them in a song of thanksgiving. The hymn was soon joined by the sounds of clanking canteens and rattling tin cups from battered haversacks of weary soldiers. As they drew near with hats in hands they joined in singing “Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide my self in thee; Let the water and the blood, from thy wounded side which flowed, be the sin the double cure, Save from wrath and make me pure.” The covenant was complete, God had kept his promise and the church miraculously spared.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
copyright © Aug 2009
The fires were still raging and the sky was painted red from the seasoned pine and oak boards that once contained productive businesses and homes but now were a city of blazing infernos. Bright glowing silhouettes’ were all that trailed the deadly Union Army troops that marched through the vast beauty of Georgia. The sweet smell of honey suckles and magnolia blossoms were replaced with charred wood and decaying bodies. General Sherman and his northern armies had indeed taken their toll as they burned, killed and destroyed everything in their path. Everything except a small Methodist church in the middle of downtown Kennesaw Mountain Georgia that is. The white washed doors were tattered and chipped from a stray bullet or two. The smoke of a burning cotton warehouse that once stood three stories tall not more than fifty feet away blackened the paint on the outer walls. The six foot steeple that contained the brass bell was fully intact with only a flesh wound of an impacted unexploded round iron cannon ball. Yet this little plain house of worship was standing and inside a full congregation was in place. You see these men and women of God were here during the entire battle and never once did they have an urge to flee. This was a day for miracles here at Kennesaw Community Methodist Church. But then let me tell you the whole story.
It was early in the morning on June 18,1864 when Pastor Wilfred Thomas entered into his little church to pray and ask for Gods mercy on this little community. All last night Pastor Thomas could hear the cannons blazing across the valley up on Pine and Lost Mountain. Many messages were coming to town about the advance of the Union Army and the retreat of the Confederate army towards Kennesaw Mountain. At night the gentle red glow of fires could be seen for miles of the burning towns and homes that lay in the path of these deadly forces. Food these days was a precious commodity and horses were almost an impossibility to find at any price. Most of the people left in Kennesaw were the women, children, and elderly that were too weak to move out of the range of certain death. For weeks now Pastor Thomas asked God to show mercy on his people. The pastor knew what would one day be coming down the red Georgia clay road and he knew without God’s divine intervention, many would be lost. This day Pastor Thomas turned in his worn leather bound word of God and the scripture leaped out of the pages straight into his eyes. Isaiah 54:17, No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongues shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn.This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their righteousness is of me,saith the LORD. Pastor Thomas was indeed encouraged this day. The LORD had given these words to him when he needed them most. Being ever so careful not to displease the LORD, Wilfred again got on his knees and asked the LORD for just one confirmation. As he arose to his feet the tongue and grove knotty pine floors creaked with the weight of foot steps behind him. It was old brother Jake, a devoted and retired man of God. “Pastor Thomas” Jake shouted, “I have heard from God this morning and he gave me a scripture to share with you. It is Isaiah 54:17.” Pastor Thomas was elated; there was so much to do. He called a church meeting this afternoon at 3:00 and needed all of his flock to be sure to attend. Pastor hurried down to the mercantile store and bought their last jar of oil. Mr. Darcy told the determined Pastor that the oil was intended to lubricate machinery and not to cook with and Pastor Thomas assured him there would be no cooking, how ever this could very well be the most important oil to have ever entered into Kennesaw Mountain. Mr. Darcy just scratched his head and went back to sweeping the front boardwalk of his store nervously.
At 3:00 sharp in the afternoon the little church was full to capacity. There were folks that Pastor Thomas had not seen in ages sitting and waiting for some word of comfort to be spoken into their ears. Many had already lost their sons to this now lost cause and now that the battle was coming closer, feared they may lose the rest of their families. Pastor Thomas rose from his chair and the congregation instantly quieted as if not desiring to miss a single word of the Lord’s deliverer. “ Mah deah brothers and sistaahs, I have asked you all heah in order that I may share with you a plan our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ has laid upon mah heart. I want you all to go to your homes and gathuh your food and supplies and bring them heah to the church by 8:00 tonight. At this time we will close our doors and begin to worship our Lord until the sounds of war can be heard no more. At 7:00 this evenin, I would like foa the decon board to join me here in anointing each board of our church building. The Lord has spoken to me and assured me that if we will carry out this task, we will be spared. I am sorry my beloveds, but there will be no admittance to this building aftah 8:00 this evenin.” At the conclusion of his speech, not a word was uttered. Within a few more minutes the people began to scurry out the door with little discussion to carry out the task set before them. At 7:00 sharp the pastor and deacons began to anoint every piece of wood with the blessed oil. Ever floorboard, every roof joist, every wooden shingle, even the little outhouse behind the structure was awarded a hearty splash of oil. Make shift curtains were fashion with blankets and sheets to cover every window and then they too were covered in oil. At the conclusion of the anointing, Pastor Thomas stood back and looked upon the structure and prayed “Our dear Father in Heaven, we are but lowly servants of thine and humbly ask thy Angels to watch over this thy temple of worship. Grant us this day oh Lord your mercies that we may not perish but live to Glorify thy Holy name. Amen.” As Pastor Thomas finished a strong warm breeze blew across the grounds as if to seal the covenant with the Lord.
At 8:00 sharp, Pastor Thomas took out his beat up old gold pocket watch from his vest pocket and with his other hand he pulled to the creaking old door until the clank of the latch was heard. A door bar was dropped across the center and the church was locked down. Sister Blackwell came to the old pump organ and began to play Amazing Grace. The congregation soon joined in and the presence of the Holy Spirit of God could be felt in this place. In the distance the sound of blazing cannons could be heard getting closer and closer. It seemed the closer the shots came the louder the people sang. Several times the sounds of clattering brogans could be heard marching across the street and onto the steps of the church, only to suddenly retreat down the red clay road. The smell of cigar was even detected a time or two from a soldier who was seeking cover from a stray bullet around the corner of the sturdy little structure. During this furious battle, not one pane of glass was broken. Not one time did anyone attempt to break down the door. It was as if neither side could even see the church for what it was. Pastor Thomas was convinced that no one outside could even hear a note that was sung or a word that was spoken this day. He opened his text and began to read from the book of Exodus chapter 12, verse 23.For the LORD will pass through to smite the Egyptians; and when he seeth the blood upon the lintel, and on the two side posts, the LORD will pass over the door, and will not suffer the destroyer to come in unto your house to smite you.
For eight days the Battle waged on and on the ninth day there was the sound of birds in the air. The battle was over. General Sherman had backed his lines away from the well dug in earth works of the Confederate troops. The food was all but gone and it was at last time to open the doors. As the people of the little fortress church began to come out, confederate soldiers watched in amazement. Where had these people all been all this time? Not one private or General alike ever even remembered seeing the little church sitting there. The town was a shambles and there was but a couple buildings even salvageable but the Kennesaw Methodist Church was a beacon in the darkness of destruction. Soon the good people of Kennesaw were all standing in the street and Pastor Wilfred Thomas led them in a song of thanksgiving. The hymn was soon joined by the sounds of clanking canteens and rattling tin cups from battered haversacks of weary soldiers. As they drew near with hats in hands they joined in singing “Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide my self in thee; Let the water and the blood, from thy wounded side which flowed, be the sin the double cure, Save from wrath and make me pure.” The covenant was complete, God had kept his promise and the church miraculously spared.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
copyright © Aug 2009
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