Charles Tillman was the first to publish the spiritual, "Give Me That Old Time Religion," after hearing African-Americans sing it at an 1889 camp meeting in Lexington, South Carolina.1

My first recollection of singing this song was as a young boy, feet dangling over the edge of the front pew where I watched Leroy's moves on the Hammond organ while Uncle Walt (Walter L. Wright) led the little Germantown Church congregation with fervor through at least a dozen verses. A sense of joy and comfort accompanied the stability of that song's message—a song I don't hear sung very often any more.

I have ventured to ask people from time to time what that song means and have received a variety of responses. Older participants in my informal survey usually longingly recall a time when church was very comfortable and predictable. Their immediate smile reveals a longing for the good ol' days the lyrics conjure up in their minds. Invariably, they launch into a back-in-my-days litany. The younger ones shrug their shoulders and give a speculative reference to stuffy, boring church services.

But occasionally, I get a theological discourse about what that song really means—usually climbing the mountain of laws and standards while condemning the slippery slope of conformity and compromise.

But rarely do I hear anyone talk about the real old-time religion of the church of the book of Acts. I remember the words of one verse we used to sing, "It was good for Paul and Silas...." Now what kind of religion did Paul and Silas have? Well, it was the kind of religion that would land you in jail. But also the kind of religion that burst forth with singing and praise while backs were shredded, and wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding.

It was the kind of religion that broke down barriers and entered new domains, embraced new concepts and ideas, and brought together different cultures, customs, generations, and genders. It was a religion that forged new methods and employed unconventional people to carry the gospel message.

It was earth-shattering religion that was on the move and could not be stopped. It was a religion attacked by conventional leadership and persecuted by the State. It was fueled by the energy and enthusiasm of people whose lives had been transformed, and they were willing to sacrifice all for the cause—including their very lives.

It was a religion that looks a lot like what the small group of teenagers and young adults had in New England when they stepped out of traditional churches to embrace their discovery of the soon-returning Savior as described in the prophetic books of Daniel and Revelation. They were young people who endured hardship and denied personal comfort to scrape up enough money to print what they learned, so that others could share in their joy.

Next time you hear or sing, "Give Me That Old Time Religion," take a good look at this new generation around you. They just may remind you of those pioneers of faith from the book of Acts and from the villages and towns of New England 150 years ago.

Gary Burns is the Lake Union Conference communication director.

1. Source: www.cyberhymnal.org