A warm breeze drifts through the old tent as women fan themselves while waiting for the preaching service to start. There are about 35 people gathering now, although more are expected as the sun sets and the summer heat morphs into a comfortable night.

This may sound like it’s out of a Southern story from a time long gone, but this is actually the setting over the past couple of weeks in the field at the corner of Highway 113 and Covered Bridge Road between Euharlee and Taylorsville.

The Macedonia Pentecostal Holiness Church in Cassville organized the two-week tent revival, which will end Aug. 21. Pastor Samuel Hooper, who has been in the ministry for 29 years, said reason for the revival is simple.

“The world is in a precarious situation right now and we’re here to say that we’re here to help,” Hooper said.

Some things are different from revivals gone by. There’s a drum set and a piano keyboard. Yet, some things remain the same, like many in the faith shaking hands with visitors and welcoming them to the revival.

The world under the tent isn’t extravagant. There are no flowers. The metal folding chairs are mismatched green, gray and brown, with the initials of their home church etched on the back. The podium, which really serves no other purpose than to hold an open Bible because the preacher never speaks from it, boasts a homespun sketch of Jesus. A blue cloth adorns the ground before the stage as an altar area.

Yet, to those under the tent, it is “the House of God.”

Hooper said the 19-year-old tent had seen many revivals. It had belonged to a pastor he respected and loved. The pastor died a little more than three years ago and the tent had remained in storage ever since.

“My wife and I decided to use it. This is the first time we’ve used it, but I helped him put it up many times,” he said.

Hooper said the number of tent revivals had been declining in recent years, but suddenly multiplied this year as more people lost jobs and homes. They are looking for something, but don’t want to go to a church building, he said.

“I came from the wild side of life. You would have to force me to go to a church. In a tent revival, you run into people like me,” Hooper said. “It’s being missionaries on the home front.

“We have people who won’t even come under the tent, but they’ll stand in the parking lot across the street and listen. They’ll sit in their car and listen.”

The pastor’s words were true. There was a truck sitting across the street, windows down, listening throughout the service and a stroll through the dirt area of parked cars led to some sitting in their vehicles, windows down, intently listening while drinking soft drinks.

A tent service is different from most Sunday morning services. It is informal. People come and go. One man came in a suit, but quickly felt odd among the sea of jeans. There are no programs, no deacons, and everyone young and old participates.

In the beginning, an older man with white hair clad in overalls said he came to play the harmonica. He brought fresh cow milk for those who wanted it. A young redheaded boy wearing a green shirt, orange shorts and tennis shoes collected the offering. Inexperienced, the lad was haphazard about the task compared to most church services. It didn’t matter.

“We’re looking for a good time tonight,” Hooper said the people in the tent. “I hope you come expecting.”

Hooper and the organizers were clearly expecting. There were 120 chairs out when only 30 people began the service. By the end of the night, there were more than 50 attending.

The tent service was one of spontaneity. Hooper addressed the crowd for a beginning prayer, which turned into a 15-minute sermon before he broke into a song. Other singers came forward, with the men and women offering “a Word” before the song prompting shouts of “amen” and “preach it” and “go on and tell it” from those attending.

Anyone could “testify” or sing, and many did, from teens to women to the oldest in the group.

“Jesus is coming and it behooves us to be ready,” a man preached.

“We’ve come up under the tent to praise the Lord,” another man said who described himself as poor and needy and “needing a touch from the Lord.”

“We’ve come up under the tent to have revival,” he said.

Perfection in preaching or song wasn’t the aim here. Hooper said the focus was the message – the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

And, in worldly terms, it was far from perfect. Singers and musicians often started off awkwardly into a song reflecting a mix of Appalachian folk and Mississippi Delta blues. Yet, either by a musical miracle or perhaps by a boost of spiritual confidence, the group would end up performing to a standing, clapping crowd. A lady on the front row kept a beat on her tambourine.

The main preacher, Sister Jeannette from Dalton, began her preaching after 9 p.m. No one knew the exact time because no one looked at their watches.

Sister Jeannette took the microphone with authority, although if truth be told she didn’t need a microphone. It could be certain her natural voice could be heard by employees at Plant Bowen.

Her message was of hope and joy.

“Where the blood is, there is victory,” she said, referring to the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

Victory was the heart of what those under the tent were offering. Hooper said many received it over the revival. Yes, he believes in miracles.

“One lady was given two weeks to live. She was given morphine and had hospice coming to her house,” he said. “Last night, she was sitting in a wheelchair over there enjoying the service and that happened past the two weeks she was supposed to die. Today, she was washing clothes and cleaning house.

“I say brag on Jesus and He’ll do miracles. Miracles happen every day. It’s just we fail to look for them.”