THE AWAKENING ONE MAN’S BATTLE WITH DARKNESS THE PLOUGH
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Tommie Harper preached—and farmed—until he died in April of The last letter he wrote—the week before his death—was to the Georgia Agriculture Market Bulletin. In the letter he asked, after seeing a picture of such a feat in the Bulletin, for information on how to grow sweet potatoes in a wash tub. The last sermon he preached in the spring of was as full of fervor and dedication and commitment as the first he preached in a farmhouse in Fayette County, Georgia, the week after he was converted.
His story is set in the context of his times and circumstances and provides significant information about agriculture, rural history, cultural norms, and religious history in Georgia in the first nine decades of the 20th century. For twenty years he was the community hellion. Then one night he went to a tent revival. His plan was to cut the ropes on the tent…but he walked away a man of God. You never really rest on a farm. In good weather we were always out in the field. The work, started in the fall when we turned under stubble. Then in the spring we started getting the land ready for planting.
We started planting such things as Irish potatoes the first dark night in February. Gardens were fixed and beans always planted on Good Friday. We planted some corn in March, then some in April. Our bottom land was never planted until the full moon in May. We tried to get through picking cotton before Christmas, but if the weather was bad, we might not finish until March of the next year. We always got our corn in before Christmas. We would always have two cribs full, or bushels.
When corngathering and cottonpicking were finished, woodcutting started. There were always to cords of wood to cut and stack.
The Awakening: One Man's Battle With Darkness - Plough
We told time by the sun. If the toe of our shoe showed out from under the shadow of our wide-brimmed hat when we stepped, that meant it was and time to go to the house to eat. AT the end of the day, we just worked until there was no light to see by. Then we went in, threw the shucks or the feed to the stock, ate supper, sharpened hoes or fixed cotton sacks while the womenfolk cleaned up the kitchen and then everybody went straight to bed.
In bad weather we worked all the same. Nobody stopped when it rained or turned cold. I started working in the blacksmith shop with Papa when I was about nine. Papa would show me how to fix a wagon wheel.
It was time for me to learn to make and repair things around the farm. Now, take the steel tire off it and work a piece of hickory wood around it. Tack it on there, and then heat that wagon steel rim and put it back on the wheel. Now all you have to do is make the spokes.
Papa always let us call it quits earlier in the day when it was cold and rainy. WE headed to the house. I loved days like this because you could count on Mama to have a big plate of friend pies waiting when you got to the kitchen for supper. Mama would spend almost all day in the kitchen during bad weather, frying pies made out of dried apples and peaches we stored out in the room on the porch.
What a delicious smell on a rainy winter day! When supper was over, the whole family went to sit in front of the fire in the big room where Granddad slept.
Mama would sew patches on clothes or make new overalls and dresses by hand. Papa would put new half soles on our shoes or mend broken laces. We would eat so many peanuts that the floor around us would be covered with hulls. Granddad would cook johnnycakes before the fire.
A must-read for anyone who has doubts about spiritual warfare, The Awakening provides a rare glimpse into the eternal fight between the forces of good and evil When Johann Christoph Blumhardt, a nineteenth-century German pastor, agreed to counsel a tormented woman in his parish. MAN'S. BATTLE. WITH. DARKNESS. FRIEDRICH ZÜNDEL. “One of the ten best books of the year.” John Wilson, Books & Culture. Awakening.
Johnnycakes were made with corn meal. He had earned that joy. Even his best friends had warned him not to get involved in the conflict. But Blumhardt had acted boldly, staking everything on his assurance that Jesus Christ is the same today as he was two thousand years ago, when for the sake of suffering humankind, he had stopped the powers of darkness in their tracks.
He had remained at his post like a soldier, neither advancing rashly nor retreating, and had held the field. Only now have I truly come to know what we have in him.
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As Blumhardt put it, he seemed to have taken on an enemy who constantly brought out fresh troops. In August Gottliebin came to him, pale and disfigured, to tell him something she had been too shy to reveal but could keep hidden no longer. At first she hedged, making him tense and apprehensive, but finally came out and told him how every Wednesday and Friday she would bleed so painfully and severely that she was sure she was dying.
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In her description of other things she experienced in connection with this bleeding, Blumhardt recognized several bizarre fantasies of popular superstition, apparently become reality. He later recalled: To begin with, I needed time to collect my thoughts, as I realized what a hold the power of darkness had gained over humanity. I recalled that there are people thought to have secret powers enabling them to ward off all manner of demonic evils; I thought of the sympathetic magic 29 THE FIGHT that people swear by. Should I look around for something of that sort?
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I had already long felt that that would be using devils to drive out devils. You started with the spiritual; do you now look to the material? Questions flooded through me: Cannot the prayers of the faithful prevail against this satanic power, whatever it be? What are we poor people to do if we cannot call down direct help from above? Because Satan has a hand in it, must we leave it at that?
Can he not be defeated through faith? If Jesus came to destroy the works of the devil, ought we not to hold on to that? If magic and witchcraft are at work, is it not a sin to let them continue unchecked when they could be confronted? With these thoughts I struggled through to faith in the power of prayer, where no other counsel was to be had. There is nothing to lose. Almost every page of Scripture tells of prayer being heard. God will keep his promises. The next day, a Friday, was unforgettable.
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Toward evening — as the first storm clouds in months began to gather across the sky — Gottliebin was thrown into a veritable frenzy. Then, running up to the attic, she sprang onto a windowsill. While standing on the ledge, ready to jump, the first lightning of the approaching storm startled her and brought her to her senses. But her sanity lasted only a moment. Once more delirious, she took a rope — later she was not able to say how it had come into her hands — wound it artfully around a beam in the loft, and made a slip knot. Just as she pushed her head through the noose, a second flash of lightning caught her eye and brought her around as before.
The next morning when she saw the noose on the beam, she wept, claiming that in a sober state of mind she never could have tied such a clever knot. He said a few comforting words to her, but she did not respond. Then, as thunder rolled outside, he began to pray earnestly. Everything has been betrayed. You have ruined us completely. The whole pack is falling apart. It is all over. There is nothing but confusion, and it is all your fault. With your unceasing praying you will drive us out completely. Alas, alas, everything is lost! We are 1,, but there are many others still alive, and they ought to be warned!
Oh, woe to them, they are lost! God forsworn — forever forlorn! Only you have managed it, you with your persistent praying.