Methodist Laughing Exercises

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David Sullins, “Recollections of an Old Man – Seventy Years in Dixie” Testimony

I was converted in my twelfth year, in the old log church in the town of Athens, Tn. Our place of worship was two miles in the country at Cedar Springs; but occasionally when there were no services at our church, we went to town to preaching. Rev. Frank Fanning was the preacher. I sat with my hands between my knees to keep them warm, and listened to the preacher. There came into my childish heart a feeling unknown before—a strange sense of the nearness and love of Jesus, of whom mother had so often spoken to me. I felt that I loved him. A simple, childlike tenderness filled my heart and I felt that he loved me. It was a most delightful sensation. I think I wept for very joy, but said nothing. It was all so new and strange and sweet that I knew nothing to say. I looked over to the seat where father and mother were seated, and such a flood of love for them swept through me that I could hardly repress the desire to run and hug them. I did actually love everybody and everything. And that sweet feeling stayed with me after the benediction. It stayed with me all about the house and barn, singing in my heart when alone in the woods; and I wanted to pray, and did not want my dog to catch that little rabbit and kill it.

Do you ask, "What was it?" I never once thought what it was. I was happy and peaceful, and everybody was good, and that was enough. Sometimes I would stay around mother and wish she would tell me to do something, that I might have the pleasure of showing her how quickly and well I could do it. It did not occur to me that I had religion. Indeed, I hardly thought a boy could get religion except at Cedar Springs Camp Meeting. But that sweet, love-everybody feeling staid with me till camp meeting. I was glad when that came. At the first call I went to the mourners' bench, and down in the straw father and mother and brother and sister came, and we prayed together, and I began to laugh and hug them. It was the same old feeling of love and tenderness which I felt on the Sunday six months before. I said: "I've got religion. Hallelujah!" It was true, and I have never had any better, and all I want now is more of it!

When camp meeting time came, Uriah Payne, a local preacher, led the word of prayer to start the Cedar Springs camp meeting. The prayer ended, they all stood for a moment, still facing each other in the ring; and then one of them began to laugh, and in a moment the laugh flew around that ring as quick as a flash of light, peal after peal. This lasted a minute or two. Then one began a half-smothered laugh, like he was trying to keep it down, and with that away went the laugh around the group in absolute convulsions. They would lean forward until their heads almost touched each other, and then backward, while peals of laughter burst in concert from each until they almost lost their breath. This strange proceeding lasted ten or fifteen minutes. I had seen what they called the "trance" several times when the person lay as dead for hours and then sprang up shouting the praise of God. But this was a purely laughing exercise. I had never seen it before. But I have seen modifications of it a time or two since. -
Recollections of an old man: seventy years in Dixie 1827-1897 - By Sullins, David, 1827-1918

 

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The old Methodist in what was known as ‘Dixie’ were not the most educated of the Christian religion, but they were good hearted, apt to enjoy life, and their Christian religion. Laughing, shouting, love feast, and good feelings were the rule of the day in these revivals. The old Methodist had no fancy terms like salvation and sanctification. They merely called it, “Getting religion.”

These men laid it all on the altar of service for God and humanity, and then I felt the laugh start in my own heart. What was it ? Why, this: Those good men had left their farms and shops, canceled all business arrangements, shut up their homes, and taken their families, with their substance, bread and meat, and for ten days had given their entire time and labor to the cause of Christ. And all this with no desire or expectation of ever receiving one dollar in return—all purely for God and their fellow-men. Our God never was, and never will be, behindhand with such men for such unselfish devotion. And so. “he filled their mouth with laughter, and their lips with rejoicing.”

The Lord rewards his servants "in kind" for their unselfish devotion to his cause. When Jesse Cunningham fed a hundred men and horses at a great meeting, some of his neighbors said : "The Methodists will eat Cunningham out of house and home yet." But they did not consider that they would have to bankrupt Cunningham’s God before they could do that. I knew that good man and heard him preach seventy years ago. He died at a good old age, "full-handed.” And the influence of his unselfish light shed a sweet light on all around, like lingering rays of a setting sun that makes the hemisphere luminous after it setting is far behind the hills.

Religion in these methods was received at what was once called the "Mourners Bench." The old Methodist would not let you claim religion until the sweet spirit of Christ came shining through the experience. They would tell you, "You do not have it yet come back tomorrow night!" But, once you got it, as in a good way, as they use to say, everyone would know about it.