I've decided to migrate my blog over to http://www.jonathanandersen.com. There I will be able to display more of my photography and have greater flexibility as I switch to the WordPress blogging platform. Look for a new layout and enhanced content. Email me about anything else you'd like to see.
Please update your favorites with the new URL. RSS feeds and email subscriptions will update automatically so you don't have to worry about that
Friday, June 19, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
The Furman Tree
Right before the Georgia/South Carolina line on I-85 North, milemarker 177, there is a stately tree in the median (Google Maps). It is different than the others. It is older, larger, and set apart.
When I was little, we would always pull over to the right side of the interstate, run across, and place a ribbon around the huge trunk of this tree. Usually it was purple, but sometimes it was gold. If there was already a ribbon around the trunk, placed by someone else, we would often tie another. I knew what this ritual signaled. We were getting close to Furman. These trips often occurred in the fall as I attended homecoming with my Mom, Nana, Papa, Aunt, and Uncle. On campus each year, I remember playing in the bright leaves and climbing up the spiral staircase in the belltower until the gate near the top stopped me.
Years later, I had to choose where to attend college. I did overnight visits, tours, and mulled over the advantages of each school I was considering. A few days before the May 1 deadline I decided on Furman. I didn't go there because I was a legacy (although I love tradition) and I hadn't fallen in love with the school on my campus tour like many of my friends. A combination of factors led me there, and the thought of attending another school never crossed my mind throughout my four years.
On my freshman hall there were many quality guys whom I became friends with quickly. We made the trek across campus to our sister hall countless times as they became our good friends. I joined KA, the fraternity of my Papa, and soon realized what bonds of true friendship could look like. I kept myself busy with clubs, studying, social functions, and relationships with friends. I remember often thinking back to high school and realizing that college was better than I ever envisioned.
I became part of a group of friends who truly cared for each other. We cooked for each other, roasted each other, spoke truth to each other, and displayed love in the midst of difficult times to each other. It is only now, a few months after graduation, that reality is setting in. This isn't just another summer, and we won't all see each other again at a Registration Night party. I often think of all the times spent with this group, the lessons we learned together, and the friendships that were forged. I am thankful. Effort is required to maintain friendships, and while this challenge awaits so does the reward of seeing how God will use each of us in the world. The majority of the crew is below:
As I drove home southbound after graduation I saw the stately tree in my mirror. I later asked my Nana how the ribbon tradition began, and she told me that they first tied ribbons around the tree during the 1970s as they took my mother to school. For her, the tree always stood as a reminder that they were getting close to Furman. After asking around at school, no one seemed to know about the tree. Perhaps after reading this others will join the tradition. Regardless, as I grow older and make the journey back to campus from a new home I will tie a ribbon around the tree with my family, point it out to others, and be reminded of the experiences and relationships that I had at Furman.
When I was little, we would always pull over to the right side of the interstate, run across, and place a ribbon around the huge trunk of this tree. Usually it was purple, but sometimes it was gold. If there was already a ribbon around the trunk, placed by someone else, we would often tie another. I knew what this ritual signaled. We were getting close to Furman. These trips often occurred in the fall as I attended homecoming with my Mom, Nana, Papa, Aunt, and Uncle. On campus each year, I remember playing in the bright leaves and climbing up the spiral staircase in the belltower until the gate near the top stopped me.
Years later, I had to choose where to attend college. I did overnight visits, tours, and mulled over the advantages of each school I was considering. A few days before the May 1 deadline I decided on Furman. I didn't go there because I was a legacy (although I love tradition) and I hadn't fallen in love with the school on my campus tour like many of my friends. A combination of factors led me there, and the thought of attending another school never crossed my mind throughout my four years.
On my freshman hall there were many quality guys whom I became friends with quickly. We made the trek across campus to our sister hall countless times as they became our good friends. I joined KA, the fraternity of my Papa, and soon realized what bonds of true friendship could look like. I kept myself busy with clubs, studying, social functions, and relationships with friends. I remember often thinking back to high school and realizing that college was better than I ever envisioned.
I became part of a group of friends who truly cared for each other. We cooked for each other, roasted each other, spoke truth to each other, and displayed love in the midst of difficult times to each other. It is only now, a few months after graduation, that reality is setting in. This isn't just another summer, and we won't all see each other again at a Registration Night party. I often think of all the times spent with this group, the lessons we learned together, and the friendships that were forged. I am thankful. Effort is required to maintain friendships, and while this challenge awaits so does the reward of seeing how God will use each of us in the world. The majority of the crew is below:
As I drove home southbound after graduation I saw the stately tree in my mirror. I later asked my Nana how the ribbon tradition began, and she told me that they first tied ribbons around the tree during the 1970s as they took my mother to school. For her, the tree always stood as a reminder that they were getting close to Furman. After asking around at school, no one seemed to know about the tree. Perhaps after reading this others will join the tradition. Regardless, as I grow older and make the journey back to campus from a new home I will tie a ribbon around the tree with my family, point it out to others, and be reminded of the experiences and relationships that I had at Furman.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
RememberFurman.com
Throughout my childhood I was always known as an entrepreneur.
I believe this side of me first came out after working the Rockdale County High School concession stand with my parents in elementary school. I quickly realized the profit margin on candy and from there I began to sell candy and snacks at Boy Scout Camp. Later, I began to sell glow necklaces on the Fourth of July to yuppie families at Hilton Head. Once I became aware of ebay I sold anything I could get my hands on, whether it was items I obtained from estate sales, my closet, or from friends (like this weird car).
In college I have held more traditional jobs, and as a culmination of my photography work for Furman University, I would like to debut a venture that I began with my friend and fellow photographer Nathan Guinn. Over the past few years we have taken thousands of photographs of Furman for various purposes and we both desired to make prints of our best artwork available to friends, alumni, and others throughout the world so we have created a website to put them up for sale. I believe you will find the prices to be very reasonable.
Furman holds a special place in my heart. I grew up hearing stories from my mother, aunt, uncle, and grandparents about how special this place was to them, and after visiting as a child and a prospective I was ecstatic once I chose to continue this legacy. As my time here approaches an end, I can see more clearly how I have been shaped by the relationships, academics, and experiences which have defined my four years here.
The photographs on the site below are glimpses of these moments I have experienced and it is my pleasure to share them with you. I hope that you will share them with your friends as well.
I believe this side of me first came out after working the Rockdale County High School concession stand with my parents in elementary school. I quickly realized the profit margin on candy and from there I began to sell candy and snacks at Boy Scout Camp. Later, I began to sell glow necklaces on the Fourth of July to yuppie families at Hilton Head. Once I became aware of ebay I sold anything I could get my hands on, whether it was items I obtained from estate sales, my closet, or from friends (like this weird car).
In college I have held more traditional jobs, and as a culmination of my photography work for Furman University, I would like to debut a venture that I began with my friend and fellow photographer Nathan Guinn. Over the past few years we have taken thousands of photographs of Furman for various purposes and we both desired to make prints of our best artwork available to friends, alumni, and others throughout the world so we have created a website to put them up for sale. I believe you will find the prices to be very reasonable.
Furman holds a special place in my heart. I grew up hearing stories from my mother, aunt, uncle, and grandparents about how special this place was to them, and after visiting as a child and a prospective I was ecstatic once I chose to continue this legacy. As my time here approaches an end, I can see more clearly how I have been shaped by the relationships, academics, and experiences which have defined my four years here.
The photographs on the site below are glimpses of these moments I have experienced and it is my pleasure to share them with you. I hope that you will share them with your friends as well.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
McClure Engagement
Two of my friends, Todd and Sally, asked me to do a small set of engagement photos for them. Often, my first reaction to requests for portraits is to shy away, as I regularly feel this is one of my weakest areas. There is a great deal of pressure to get the right "shot" and I often take a ton of photos hoping a few will turn out without having to call someone back to reshoot them. However, sometimes stepping out of my comfort zone is well worth it.
I travelled with Todd and Sally throughout Europe and they are a couple whose relationship I have admired and seen grow over the years.
I travelled with Todd and Sally throughout Europe and they are a couple whose relationship I have admired and seen grow over the years.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Creative Process
I'm currently enrolled in a photography class through the Photo School of the Upstate instructed by the renowned Richard Bernabe. The lectures have been informative and the discussions with everyone have helped me gain better vision as a photographer.
I haven't been posting as many pictures lately because I've been busy applying to graduate schools, studying, and doing some campaign work. However, I've also been convicted of the fact that many times I simply take pretty pictures that are emotionally sterile. I desire to produce images that evoke an emotional response. This will rarely occur if the image sparks nothing inside of me when I am taking it. I need to ask questions such as "Why do I want to photograph this?" or "What emotion is this scene eliciting from me and what ultimately do I want to communicate here?" I need to let the right side of my brain do more work.
These thoughts and quotes arise from Richard's article here where he expounds upon many of these concepts.
I haven't been posting as many pictures lately because I've been busy applying to graduate schools, studying, and doing some campaign work. However, I've also been convicted of the fact that many times I simply take pretty pictures that are emotionally sterile. I desire to produce images that evoke an emotional response. This will rarely occur if the image sparks nothing inside of me when I am taking it. I need to ask questions such as "Why do I want to photograph this?" or "What emotion is this scene eliciting from me and what ultimately do I want to communicate here?" I need to let the right side of my brain do more work.
These thoughts and quotes arise from Richard's article here where he expounds upon many of these concepts.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Excelsior
I've always loved this statue in Conyers, and when I drove by one evening over break I saw it had been decorated for Christmas. The boys, covered in ice and climbing ever higher, reminded me of a poem by Longfellow.
Also, click the link on the top right of the blog to sign up and receive emails each time I make a post.
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!
In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!
"Try not the Pass!" the old man said:
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!
"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!"
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered, with a sigh,
Excelsior!
"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!"
This was the peasant's last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!
At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!
A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!
Also, click the link on the top right of the blog to sign up and receive emails each time I make a post.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Excelsior
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!
In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!
"Try not the Pass!" the old man said:
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!
"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!"
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered, with a sigh,
Excelsior!
"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!"
This was the peasant's last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!
At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!
A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Engaged
While at home in Conyers this Christmas I had the amazing opportunity to photograph my brother Will and his fiance Farley. They were the first couple I have photographed and they were such a joy to work with.
I'd love some feedback from friends, family, and others reading my blog regarding my first attempt at engagement photos.
I'd love some feedback from friends, family, and others reading my blog regarding my first attempt at engagement photos.
Click the photo below to see their gallery
Friday, December 19, 2008
One semester remains
You may remember some of my first attempts at HDR that I did at Washington and Lee. While those were done from a single RAW file, the photographs below are my first attempts at true HDR photography.
Moonset
A different angle of my favorite scene on campus looking from the library to the Chapel.
Chapel Sunrise
Belltower Moon
Moonset
A different angle of my favorite scene on campus looking from the library to the Chapel.
Chapel Sunrise
Belltower Moon
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I am Second
I just completed a research project looking at Web 2.o for political purposes, but until now I had never given much thought about Web 2.0 for the church.
I come in contact with hundreds of websites daily, but every once in a while one really stands out. If possible, take a few minutes during lunch and check out some of the videos from the site below.
During exams and the busyness of this season, I must always remember I am Second.
I come in contact with hundreds of websites daily, but every once in a while one really stands out. If possible, take a few minutes during lunch and check out some of the videos from the site below.
During exams and the busyness of this season, I must always remember I am Second.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Traditions Pt. 1
After a great Thanksgiving with my family I began to get ready for my next holiday tradition. Black Friday shopping. Most people cringe thinking of this day, but since I could drive I have gotten up early and have always found some deals. If you know me well, then you already know I'm thrifty and always looking for a way to save or make a dollar - creating a perfect fit between myself and this consumer holiday.The picture to the right is at 5:30AM or so and the line had already wrapped around the building. This is typical, and it sure beats the line at Best Buy which usually starts about 5:30PM on Thanksgiving day.
It is not too exciting to shop alone, so for the past few years some of my best friends have joined me and we always have fun waiting in line together, making loud references to cheap laptops that don't exist, talking with others to see what they're buying, and enjoying the competitive atmosphere that ensues. We always conclude our day by heading over to Mamie's Kitchen.
You're probably wondering what items lead me to be in line so early. This year it was nothing too exciting just some blank dvds, thumb drives, dvds, etc. I also bought my first pair of cowboy-type boots. I really could have bought these items anytime, but spending these moments with my friends and experiencing an American phenomenon makes it worth the early morning alarm.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Rockmont
The photos below are from Camp Rockmont for Boys where I have worked two of my college summers. It was such a blessing to be able to lead and mentor young men in a Christian environment. If you haven't, please consider sending your child to camp as they grow up. It is a great opportunity for them to grow physically, socially, mentally, and spiritually.
Prayer Labyrinth
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Ephemeral
The leaves have fallen, but luckily I had the opportunity to visit Asheville and Hendersonville the first weekend of November. Click on each photo to go to my Flickr page.
Looking Glass Falls - Brevard, NC
Looking Glass Falls - Brevard, NC
Sunrise - Hendersonville, NC
Jump Off Rock - Hendersonville, NC
Jump Off Rock - Hendersonville, NC
Roadside - Hendersonville, NC
Jump Off Rock - Hendersonville, NC
Blue Ridge Parkway - Asheville, NC
Veteran's Day
Looking Glass Falls - Brevard, NC
Looking Glass Falls - Brevard, NC
Sunrise - Hendersonville, NC
Jump Off Rock - Hendersonville, NC
Jump Off Rock - Hendersonville, NC
Roadside - Hendersonville, NC
Jump Off Rock - Hendersonville, NC
Blue Ridge Parkway - Asheville, NC
Veteran's Day
My friend, Nathan Guinn, also captured some stunning fall photographs at Furman - Click here for his set.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Final Countdown
I meant to make a post regarding this a long time ago, but now it seems even more timely.
After religiously following election news for the past few months and watching all of the debates and forums, I believe that the best interviews with the candidates occurred at Saddleback Church.
If you missed Saddleback Church's Civil Forum I recommend that you watch it in full. Both candidates had an hour of one-on-one questioning by Pastor Warren and it painted a telling picture of each candidate, their world view, and how they would approach the presidency.
To watch the Forum go here:
Saddleback Civil Forum in full
After religiously following election news for the past few months and watching all of the debates and forums, I believe that the best interviews with the candidates occurred at Saddleback Church.
If you missed Saddleback Church's Civil Forum I recommend that you watch it in full. Both candidates had an hour of one-on-one questioning by Pastor Warren and it painted a telling picture of each candidate, their world view, and how they would approach the presidency.
To watch the Forum go here:
Saddleback Civil Forum in full
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Life
While I am not Catholic, I still found this to be a very powerful video in regards to the upcoming election.
Many issues are at stake
Some more important than others
Update: Prof. Robert George - "Obama's Abortion Extremism"
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
State Fair
A few friends and I headed out on Friday night to the South Carolina Upper State Fair. We rode the Fireball, saw some chickens, elephants, tigers, and of course had some cotton candy.
Update: A friend of mine, Kate Hofler, wrote about our experience on the Greenville Forward blog.
Update: A friend of mine, Kate Hofler, wrote about our experience on the Greenville Forward blog.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Race42008
Check out this news/information aggregation website that I put together for the new freshmen seminar "Race to the White House." Be sure and click on each of the tabs for more pages. Warning, this may be information overload for some.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
W&L
These are my first attempts at HDR - High Dynamic Range photography. I used the tutorial from a photographer named Trey Ratcliff who has many amazing images on his site. These images are of Lee Chapel, on the campus of Washington and Lee University, which I took while I was in Lexington for a KA conference. W&L truly rivals Furman in terms of a beautiful campus.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Campmeeting
I will go ahead and make the bold statement that Salem Campmeeting is my favorite week out of each year. It is hard to explain to people who have never heard of campmeeting so here are a few resources.
Salem Campmeeting Home Page
Wikipedia - Campmeeting
I have written a few papers on Salem while at Furman. Here is a creative writing paper I wrote freshman year. If you would like the full bibliography please email me.
The bell clangs loudly as it swings back and forth. Screen doors slam shut as everyone walks toward the music and finds a seat inside the tabernacle. “Hallelujah, Thine the Glory, Hallelujah Amen” is sung without a hymnal, and the offering plate is passed around for the second time that day. A little boy sprinkles sawdust on his feet and then rubs his toes together letting the sawdust pass through and return to the ground. With a sheet of paper he found next to him, the boy fans the sweat dripping down his brow throughout the service. The preacher prays, “We thank you for the fact that there are bicycles lying on the ground all around this tabernacle, symbols of young people, of kids, who are coming to love this place, and consequently to love you” (Nearly 180 Years Old). It is early August, and Camp Meeting has begun.
The scene above is unique in today’s culture. To an outsider it seems unusual, but to those whose families have been going for decades, it is another sacred tradition. In today’s world of hustle and bustle, Americans all over the country step away from society for one week to enjoy this time. Unique to America, the concept of Camp Meeting started in the early 1800s, revolving around the First and Second Great Awakenings. Thousands upon thousands of people traveled from all around, where they crashed upon the camp grounds like waves (Shore 2).
Thirty minutes east of Atlanta in Newton County, one of the oldest running Camp Meetings continues as it has for the past 175 years. Taking a glimpse into a week there helps one to understand why and how this tradition has continued until today. Just like in 1898, laptops, televisions, and Playstations are nowhere to be found. No pool floats or sand buckets were loaded into cars for the journey, even though for many families this is their only summer vacation. They arrive and gather with many friends and relatives for the first time since last Camp Meeting. In many tents, four generations of people from the same family are united once again. Those who have passed away during the year are mourned for, and babies’ new lives are celebrated.
Bunk beds fill rooms where small children sleep the humid summer nights away while their parents and other family members pack into the other rooms. Each family stays in a unit referred to as a tent, an allusion to the days of old, before the wooden structures were built (Bruce 71). The tents aren’t just sleeping quarters; the history and stories behind each unique one add to the sense of community and ritual (Kendell-Taylor 20). Giggles and talking can be heard throughout these tents because no ceilings exist, only tin roofs that crackle in the sun and fade to rust in the rain. Six feet over, an even larger family sleeps, providing another link in the horseshoe of tents which surround the tabernacle.
At 7:30 in the morning the tabernacle slowly fills. Old and young alike try to stay awake during the short devotional. This start to the day is the same as it has been for hundreds of years, being seen as an indispensable preliminary by all who have attended (Johnson, 122-144). Families retreat for buttered biscuits, and then everyone splits into classes to learn age-appropriate Bible lessons before the 11:00 service. Joyous singing can be heard as the latecomers slip in the back of the tabernacle. Soon after, the clinking of change can be heard as coins drop into the tin offering plates. “Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God,” the preacher remarks midway through his sermon. The fan above slowly provides relief, for his perspiration has plastered his shirt to his chest. He asks the crowd whether anyone wants to come to the alter, but no one accepts the offer that day. People quickly file out to go and savor the pimento cheese sandwiches and sweet tea.
Instead of taking afternoon naps, people sit on their porches and the campground comes alive with chatter. On one porch, an eighty year old man tells his grandson’s friend to be careful with girls when he goes off to college, “A girl will you leave you high and dry, but God will always be there.” Filing through old index cards with scribbles of family recipes, a lady tries to teach some little girls how to cook. One man, who goes by Bubba, describes this aspect of Camp Meeting like this, “We get too busy in the world. We need to sit down on a porch and swing for a while” (Hendrickson). He and others share updates on what they have done throughout the year, advice on raising kids, and reflections on the sermons from the week. Children swing on the playground under the sweltering sun, sharing embellished stories about their schoolmates, memories of Camp Meetings past, and questions about life. At 4:00 the bell rings again, and all the men and children slowly make a pilgrimage to the softball field.
The younger kids change into swimming suits and cross the busy road onto an old concrete path under a canopy of pecan trees. At the end of the path they find a piece of history accidentally trapped in urban sprawl. They stick their heads under an old pipe and chilling natural spring water rushes over their heads. A feeling of shock and refreshment overcomes them, the same sensation people who were baptized there hundreds of years before received. While they play, a man by the name of Casey tells the story that if a couple drinks from the spring together, they’ll get married and that it has been tested time and time again (Thorpe). The kids promise that it’ll never happen to them as so many have before.
Family, fellowship, food, and friends are simply not enough to keep an institution like this one going for 175 years. Swinging on the porch, while fireflies light up the night, Bubba passes on wisdom as it was given to him so many years before. He tells some young boys, “Camp Meeting provides a time and place for everyone to stop and meet with the maker of life. We need Camp Meeting to remind us of who we are and who we are meant to be” (Hendrickson). One of them asks, “That’s why people keep returning every year isn’t it?” Bubba simply nods his head and realizes the boys are starting to understand.
As the sun goes down behind the tabernacle, the tenters gather for the last service of the day. The suburbanites cruise by and honk their horns. Some are bewildered since for the first time all year, the grounds are vibrant with life and light.
Front and center, the scene is the same as it has been for hundreds of years. The messages that are delivered from behind the old oak pulpit cannot be dodged, even by the teenagers who sit on the last row, eager to slip out any chance given. An altar call is given this night and one college boy feels the calling of God on his life to become a minister. A new passion wells up in him and the cycle continues. He will one day stand behind the same old oak pulpit while his family sits in the pews. His children will play in the spring and one day grow to hear a similar message that changes them.
Salem Campmeeting Home Page
Wikipedia - Campmeeting
I have written a few papers on Salem while at Furman. Here is a creative writing paper I wrote freshman year. If you would like the full bibliography please email me.
Family, Fellowship, Food, and Friends
The bell clangs loudly as it swings back and forth. Screen doors slam shut as everyone walks toward the music and finds a seat inside the tabernacle. “Hallelujah, Thine the Glory, Hallelujah Amen” is sung without a hymnal, and the offering plate is passed around for the second time that day. A little boy sprinkles sawdust on his feet and then rubs his toes together letting the sawdust pass through and return to the ground. With a sheet of paper he found next to him, the boy fans the sweat dripping down his brow throughout the service. The preacher prays, “We thank you for the fact that there are bicycles lying on the ground all around this tabernacle, symbols of young people, of kids, who are coming to love this place, and consequently to love you” (Nearly 180 Years Old). It is early August, and Camp Meeting has begun.
The scene above is unique in today’s culture. To an outsider it seems unusual, but to those whose families have been going for decades, it is another sacred tradition. In today’s world of hustle and bustle, Americans all over the country step away from society for one week to enjoy this time. Unique to America, the concept of Camp Meeting started in the early 1800s, revolving around the First and Second Great Awakenings. Thousands upon thousands of people traveled from all around, where they crashed upon the camp grounds like waves (Shore 2).
Thirty minutes east of Atlanta in Newton County, one of the oldest running Camp Meetings continues as it has for the past 175 years. Taking a glimpse into a week there helps one to understand why and how this tradition has continued until today. Just like in 1898, laptops, televisions, and Playstations are nowhere to be found. No pool floats or sand buckets were loaded into cars for the journey, even though for many families this is their only summer vacation. They arrive and gather with many friends and relatives for the first time since last Camp Meeting. In many tents, four generations of people from the same family are united once again. Those who have passed away during the year are mourned for, and babies’ new lives are celebrated.
Bunk beds fill rooms where small children sleep the humid summer nights away while their parents and other family members pack into the other rooms. Each family stays in a unit referred to as a tent, an allusion to the days of old, before the wooden structures were built (Bruce 71). The tents aren’t just sleeping quarters; the history and stories behind each unique one add to the sense of community and ritual (Kendell-Taylor 20). Giggles and talking can be heard throughout these tents because no ceilings exist, only tin roofs that crackle in the sun and fade to rust in the rain. Six feet over, an even larger family sleeps, providing another link in the horseshoe of tents which surround the tabernacle.
At 7:30 in the morning the tabernacle slowly fills. Old and young alike try to stay awake during the short devotional. This start to the day is the same as it has been for hundreds of years, being seen as an indispensable preliminary by all who have attended (Johnson, 122-144). Families retreat for buttered biscuits, and then everyone splits into classes to learn age-appropriate Bible lessons before the 11:00 service. Joyous singing can be heard as the latecomers slip in the back of the tabernacle. Soon after, the clinking of change can be heard as coins drop into the tin offering plates. “Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God,” the preacher remarks midway through his sermon. The fan above slowly provides relief, for his perspiration has plastered his shirt to his chest. He asks the crowd whether anyone wants to come to the alter, but no one accepts the offer that day. People quickly file out to go and savor the pimento cheese sandwiches and sweet tea.
Instead of taking afternoon naps, people sit on their porches and the campground comes alive with chatter. On one porch, an eighty year old man tells his grandson’s friend to be careful with girls when he goes off to college, “A girl will you leave you high and dry, but God will always be there.” Filing through old index cards with scribbles of family recipes, a lady tries to teach some little girls how to cook. One man, who goes by Bubba, describes this aspect of Camp Meeting like this, “We get too busy in the world. We need to sit down on a porch and swing for a while” (Hendrickson). He and others share updates on what they have done throughout the year, advice on raising kids, and reflections on the sermons from the week. Children swing on the playground under the sweltering sun, sharing embellished stories about their schoolmates, memories of Camp Meetings past, and questions about life. At 4:00 the bell rings again, and all the men and children slowly make a pilgrimage to the softball field.
The younger kids change into swimming suits and cross the busy road onto an old concrete path under a canopy of pecan trees. At the end of the path they find a piece of history accidentally trapped in urban sprawl. They stick their heads under an old pipe and chilling natural spring water rushes over their heads. A feeling of shock and refreshment overcomes them, the same sensation people who were baptized there hundreds of years before received. While they play, a man by the name of Casey tells the story that if a couple drinks from the spring together, they’ll get married and that it has been tested time and time again (Thorpe). The kids promise that it’ll never happen to them as so many have before.
Family, fellowship, food, and friends are simply not enough to keep an institution like this one going for 175 years. Swinging on the porch, while fireflies light up the night, Bubba passes on wisdom as it was given to him so many years before. He tells some young boys, “Camp Meeting provides a time and place for everyone to stop and meet with the maker of life. We need Camp Meeting to remind us of who we are and who we are meant to be” (Hendrickson). One of them asks, “That’s why people keep returning every year isn’t it?” Bubba simply nods his head and realizes the boys are starting to understand.
As the sun goes down behind the tabernacle, the tenters gather for the last service of the day. The suburbanites cruise by and honk their horns. Some are bewildered since for the first time all year, the grounds are vibrant with life and light.
Front and center, the scene is the same as it has been for hundreds of years. The messages that are delivered from behind the old oak pulpit cannot be dodged, even by the teenagers who sit on the last row, eager to slip out any chance given. An altar call is given this night and one college boy feels the calling of God on his life to become a minister. A new passion wells up in him and the cycle continues. He will one day stand behind the same old oak pulpit while his family sits in the pews. His children will play in the spring and one day grow to hear a similar message that changes them.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
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