THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT

In an open field on top of Sand Mountain, the End-Time Evangelist, Brother Charles McGlocklin, would lead services under muscadine vines, honeysuckle, and starlight, like believers used to do in the old days, before the world with all its deceitfulness and vanities lured them down from the mountains and into the city, where a woman might be tempted to back up on the Lord and stop drinking strychnine, and her husband would have to take matters into his own hands by putting a gun to her head and forcing her to reach into the serpent box.

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My uncle’s death confirmed a suspicion of mine that madness and religion were a hair’s breadth away.  My beliefs about the nature of God and man have changed over the years, but that one never has.  Feeling after God is dangerous business.  And Christianity without passion, danger, and mystery may not really be Christianity at all.

Covington/Salvation