WATKINSVILLE — Growing up in Virginia, Charles Jones had no choice but to soak up history.

America’s story essentially began there with Jamestown, the first permanent English colony. Key battles and events from the Revolutionary and Civil wars saturate the landscape. With a bent toward studying historical events, Jones was a natural fit for the Commonwealth.

Pastor of Mars Hill Baptist Church for the past nine years, Jones is instilling that same appreciation into members of his congregation, from youngest to oldest.

“Much of our identity revolves around where we’ve been,” says Jones, a member of the Georgia Baptist Historical Commission. “However, even though we should want to foster that appreciation, we don’t want to step over into ancestor worship.”

This Memorial Day weekend, Mars Hill will remember its past as it has for several years. Following Sunday’s service, families will place flags on veterans’ graves at the church’s two cemeteries. “It connects people with those who have died,” adds Jones.

Two years ago representatives from Sons of the American Revolution placed markers on the graves. Once, a special recognition of World War II veterans included a surprise roll call with a photo slide show from the vets’ service. Another time, Wyatt Posey spoke to the church. Posey lettered in football from 1939-41 for the University of Georgia – later coaching with Wally Butts in the 60s – before serving in World War II and fighting at the Battle of Bulge.

In denominational life, former pastor Patrick Hues Mell simultaneously served as chancellor at UGA and the longest-tenured president of both the Georgia Baptist Convention (1857-87) and Southern Baptist Convention (1863-71, 1880-87), a fact that had slipped into obscurity among church members before Jones arrived.

History-wise, Mars Hill is ideal for Jones. It was established in 1799 by Revolutionary War veterans on what was then the western edge of the frontier (Jones’ previous church, Flat Creek Baptist in Gainesville, was established in 1818, also on the frontier’s edge.). The law required members, Jones says, to carry guns to church in case of Indian attack. Senior members have recollections of a gun rack at the back of the sanctuary before the building burned down some 14 years ago.

However, he maintains that the image of a bunch of ornery frontier cusses determined to keep the Injuns at bay is wrong.

 

Kingdom work

“These [early] churches were involved in supporting missions, including to the Indians,” he says. “They worked to reach their culture and wanted to collectively use their resources to carry out Kingdom work.”

One of Jones’ favorite quotes states history as “a foundation upon which to build and not an anchor to hold us back.” He’s concerned, though, about a church leadership culture that not just gives a courteous wink at tradition but chunks it like GM stock.

“We’re quick today to cast off our past and even theology because we’ve gotten caught up in the precepts of what it means to be successful,” he claims. “We want to accomplish success in terms of the world. That can lead to taking up whatever ministerial fad comes along.

“It puts us in danger of losing our identity.”

Balance is needed. In short, don’t be so yesterday-minded to worship at an altar holding a handkerchief containing Billy Graham’s sweat. But quit treating church history and tradition like the relative you want to keep secret.

That said, Jones is positive early church founders would be some of the biggest cheerleaders for churches looking to engage today’s culture.

“If [those early leaders] had any concept of the opportunities churches would have today to reach people like we can, they would tell us to do it like they did. They’d encourage us to find innovative ways to reach this generation.

“These churches weren’t established to just carry on tradition, but to spread the gospel.”