Sometimes I find myself smiling as I think about small town church in years gone by. Back when every year we had two revivals, one in the spring, one in the fall. You were expected to be there every single night, no matter what was showing on “The Wonderful World of Disney.”
“Sunday socials” included dinner on the grounds that could have fed a small nation. Deviled eggs that disappeared in five minutes, fried chicken that could convert a skeptic, and larruping desserts that could make your tongue beat your brains out.
Behind the slightly out-of-tune upright piano hung that classic wooden scoreboard, faithfully reporting last week’s attendance and offering, and this week’s hymn numbers. Nobody paid it any mind unless the hymn numbers were wrong.
Songs were sung straight out of the Broadman Hymnal or Heavenly Highways. Everybody sang back then, belting out songs they all knew by heart whether they could read a note of music or not.
On the Lord’s Table down front there was a silk flower arrangement. It hadn’t been changed in 27 years and everyone secretly hoped it never would. It was the floral definition of “bless yer heart.”
Then there was the baptistry with a heater that never did work quite right. It held water so cold it proved you really were one of God’s frozen chosen.
Times have changed, but the love folks shared back then still keeps church families together today. The Bible the preacher preached from is still the unchanging Word of God. Music is still the primary way the people of God join together in praise. Prayer is still the way we communicate with the Father. The Holy Spirit is still the One who brings real revival, and Jesus Christ is still the King of Kings who loves His Bride and is glorified by the worship of His people.
Some things change.
The big stuff doesn’t.
John W. Crowder 
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