Golden Nuggets from the Mountains: (Second Edition)

By Fred B. Lunsford

The late 1920' and early 1930's was the time of the Great Depression. Little or no work was available so people could earn money for survival. All mountain families grew vegetables, kept a milk cow and raised some hogs. Those who owned their mountain farms lived well by working hard and managing well. They cut timber to sell and earn a little money necessary for clothing and other things they couldn't grow.

It was widely known that gold had been found in the mountains. Men would put in endless hours panning for gold in the small mountain streams. Now and then, someone would find a gold nugget. Most of the time, it would be the size of a pea or maybe the size of a marble. Gold was a symbol of wealth. When someone found a nugget and word got around, everyone would be talking about Uncle Ben striking it rich. However, I never knew of anyone selling his gold for a pile of money.

One day, I realized that gold nuggets were not only present in these mountains, but that there were golden nuggets in the experiences of my life in these mountains. It is with great joy that I share these stories with anyone who cares to read them.

Fred Lunsford

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Dec 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9781449708580

Fred B. Lunsford

Rev. Fred B. Lunsford was born and raised in the Appalachain Mountains. More precisely, he was born and raised in the little community of Marble, NC. His education was obtained at Andrews High School, Mercer University Extension Classes, Seminary Extension Classes, The University of West Virginia Church Leaders School, Southern Seminary Conferences and Seminars and he is an Alumni of Southeastern Seminary. Fred was called to preach in 1949. He was licensed and ordained to the Gospel Ministry in 1950. Therefore, he is completing sixty years of Ministry this year of 2010. He has pastored several churches and served as Director of Missions for Truett Baptist Association for almost twenty-seven years. He was awarded the Seminary Extension Award of the Year in 1980, the Director of Missions Award for the Eastern United States in 1987. In 1991, Fred was named Director Emeritus of Truett Baptist Association. He served as a Church Growth Multiplier for the NC Baptist State Convention for several years. More recently, Fred has authored, "Golden Nuggets From the Mountains," "God's Messenger from the Mountains," and this book Glory in the Mountains: The Sound of Many Waters."

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GOLDEN NUGGETS FROM THE MOUNTAINS

But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.-Romans 5:8

Scattered here and there in the Southern Appalachian Mountains of Western North Carolina, North Georgia, East Tennessee and Upstate South Carolina, are nuggets of gold. A serious searcher can find gold nuggets as well as other precious gems such as sapphires and rubies. Many years ago an old man who was born and raised in these mountains, spent all of his years searching the hills for nuggets. This was as he raised his family making a living from the fertile mountain soil and timber that grew big and tall by the cool mountain streams. One day he said to me, Son, I have something I want to show you. Here is some gold I harvested from these hills. He handed me a vile filled with gold dust, and then he produced a little leather pouch tied with a leather string. With his gnarled fingers worn from hard work and browned in the mountain sun, he untied it and poured out in my hand three gold nuggets. They were bright and shining in the morning sun. He said with a smile on his wrinkled face, Now, Son, there are many more out there, go get them. I haven’t done that because many other things have taken my time, but one-day God called me to preach His Word primarily to the mountain people of whom I am a part. For the past more than 59 years, I have been harvesting spiritual nuggets from these hills. The call came loud and clear. I went into service during World War II at the age of 18. I returned after the war with a promise in my heart to my God. The promise was that if He (God) brought me home, I would serve Him as long as I lived to the best of my ability. I trusted Him to open doors for me and give me wisdom, physical stamina, and spiritual power to fulfill His mandate. I have failed in so many ways, but God is always faithful.

I will always go back to one golden spiritual nugget as my foundation. It all began at the age of 13. My little Godly Grandmother, Ella Rogers, lived in our home. She trotted me on her knees and sang old hymns to me and told me Bible stories, such as the stories of Samson, Joseph, and Shamgar, who swapped ends of an ox goad and cracked the heads of the Philistines. In August, after I turned 13 in March, a revival meeting was in progress at Vengeance Creek Baptist Church. We met in a little one-room schoolhouse. Grandma insisted that I go with her to the meetings each night. The old mountain preacher preached long and loud. God convicted me one night. I knew I was a sinner and I needed Jesus as my Savior. I went home that night determined to never go back to church again. I slept well that night. The next day I did my chores and ran and played. In the late afternoon, I heard a noise out behind the old log barn. I hurried to see what it was. In so doing, I found my little Grandma down on her knees in the corn patch, her face lifted toward heaven with tears trickling down her wrinkled face. There was a radiant smile on her face as if she were looking right into the face of God. The words she was saying as she prayed were so very penetrating to my soul. With a little broken voice, she said, Oh God, I love that boy, and she called my name. He is running from you now, don’t let him get away, convict him, speak to him, and save him. I could stand it no longer. I ran up to my hiding place in the attic of the two-story farm house, but I couldn’t get away from that little broken voice and the penetrating voice of God. I thought I would get away from it so I went to the back pasture to find the cows and drive them in by milking time. I could hardly hear the cowbells ring for the little raspy voice of Grandma, but I finally found them and brought them to the barn. We milked the cows, fed the mules, chickens, and hogs. We gathered the eggs, carried in stove wood, and carried water from the spring and Mama said, Supper is ready. We all gathered around the big table for the evening meal. Soon after supper, Grandma said, Come now Son, let’s go to church. I said, I’m not going tonight Grandma. She said, Oh yes you are, you see I’m afraid to come home in the dark by myself. I always believe she fibbed a bit about that. I don’t think she was afraid of the devil, but she wanted me to go and I couldn’t turn her down. I was ready with my patched overalls on. I had no shoes but everybody else was without shoes as well. We walked about a mile and a half down the dusty road to the little one-room schoolhouse. As we walked, I can remember even now seeing the dust come up between my toes. I couldn’t look her in the face because it was lit up like the noon day sun. She had been with Jesus.

I sat down in the back of the church meeting house. They sang some and prayed a long time and then the old Preacher preached long and hard. He gave the invitation. I ran down the aisle to the altar. There I gave my heart to the Lord and He saved my soul. To God be the Glory! This is a blessed assurance of grace divine. This is a golden nugget that never fades. Many other nuggets have been mine. In this book I try to share a few in my own way.

All good things in this life and the life to come are from the Lord. We need to look up to Him and receive His blessings.

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BAPTISM

And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him: And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. -Matthew 3:16-17

Baptism by immersion is practiced by all Baptists. We believe this is the Scriptural way that it should be done. We have been called deep-water Baptists as well as a lot of other names through the years.

God has blessed me with the privilege of baptizing hundreds of people in the almost sixty years of ministry. I have baptized people in creeks, brooks, ponds, lakes, rivers, and of course in the church baptistries.

A few years back, we were planning a baptismal service in a church where I was Pastor. We had a man seventy-five years old to be baptized. He wanted to be baptized in the creek. I told him that was no problem, that I had baptized more people in the creek than in the baptistries. So plans were made to baptize him on a Sunday afternoon in a beautiful cool, clear, mountain, trout stream. The deep pool of water was called by many, The Swimming Hole. When