Prompt: A Random Fact
Who, What, When, and Where, but not Why?
The Rev. Dr. Cynthia Forde
The date, 21 October 1809, jumped off the page right smack into my face! Who? My 4thgreat grandmother’s sister, mother, and many friends submitted to “Believer’s Baptism” on that date by the Rev. Jesse Mercer in Wilkes County, Georgia. The newly baptized did not include my Martha Bankston Sappington and her father, Lawrence Bankston. They did not participate. Why?
Martha Bankston was married about 1809 to Caleb, son of Richard Sappington, and Rebecca, daughter of Revolutionary War patriot Frederick “Fadda” Jarrett, and his wife, Martha, daughter of patriots Hugh and Elizabeth Ivey. Martha and Caleb established a home on 111 acres purchased from Caleb’s parents; it adjoined the Sappington parents’ and siblings’ properties on China Grove Road near Beaverdam Creek in Wilkes County, Georgia.
Why is one of the many questions I would like to ask Martha Bankston Sappington about her decision not to jump into the Baptist water? I find her story compelling because it is set amid fierce denominational competition in northeast Georgia and in her own family.
Martha’s father, Lawrence Bankston, descended from a long line of prominent Philadelphia Lutherans, yet his grandmother descended from Dutch Reformed and Quakers. When Lawrence’s grandfather, Lawrence Sr., moved from Philadelphia to North Carolina, he was a member of St. Matthew’s Parish Church (Anglican; Haigler, op. cit.), probably because there was not a Lutheran congregation in proximity; the Anglican Church is similar to Lutheran catechesis and worship. The Anglican Church fell into disrepute with the American Revolution against England, and many Protestant groups arose with evangelical fervor, especially Methodism and a variety of Baptist movements. Lawrence’s father and mother, Peter and Priscilla Bankston, lived amidst fiery Baptist preaching and became founding members of the Mars Hill Baptist Church in Clarke County, Georgia, in 1799.
During this time, Nancy Henderson Bankston’s parents succumbed to the waters of rebaptism. They became charter members of Sardis Baptist Church, having come from Anglican roots in North Carolina and earlier Virginia. Five years later, Nancy and her daughter Isabella Bankston Irvin were also received “by experience” (baptism by immersion). Lawrence Bankston was not a member of his wife and in-laws’ Baptist church at Centreville (now Rayle), Georgia. According to the Sardis Church records, Nancy Henderson Bankston was buried next to her father, Joseph Henderson. Lawrence Bankston was not buried in that cemetery. The wording in Lawrence Bankston’s obituary pointed to the denominational struggle, stating that Lawrence’s eternal future was unknown, left in the hands of “the Judge who would do what was right.”
I suggest that Lawrence Bankston was not on the rolls or buried in the Sardis Cemetery beside his wife and her parents because he maintained the teachings of his youth. The obituary is telling: the author of the obituary was his son-in-law, a Baptist preacher. He obviously loved Lawrence but had a problem with Lawrence’s religious beliefs or lack thereof. I find good cause that Lawrence Bankston held fast to the Lutheran belief of his youth, as memorized in catechesis, “Baptism is not a human work but an act of God” (The Augsburg Confession, a Commentary by Leif Grane, Augsburg Publishing House, Minneapolis, MN 1987, p. 106). My theory gave birth to Martha Bankston’s interpretative essay.
Martha’s mother and sisters were baptized into membership at the newly formed Sardis Baptist Church. That random fact shaped my thoughts as I imagined Martha’s faith instruction from her Lutheran father. Inherent in Lutheranism is the Small Catechism, written by Martin Luther as a tool for parents to teach their children the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Sacraments. As a Lutheran, I visualized Martha’s struggle and the discovery of her voice instructing her grandchildren. I am Martha’s fifth great-granddaughter, a Lutheran minister, and a beneficiary of Martha’s voice. So, too, I discovered my voice in teaching my children and my children’s children. The voice of faith continues to echo through generations.
Through the gray mist of her dream world, Martha was once again celebrating her mother’s and sister’s believer’s baptisms and a belated celebration of her marriage to Caleb Sappington six months prior.
Martha had been quiet as she watched her sister, Isabella Irvin, her mother, Nancy Bankston, and a large crowd of newly saved dressed in white be plunged into the waters of Long Creek by the Rev. Jesse Mercer, the captivating preacher from Sardis Church. The dripping-wet baptized were now received by experience to Sardis Baptist Church, additional fruit from the religious revivals that gripped Wilkes County.
Images of Grand Pa Joseph Henderson as a young man again, a tall, dignified man who wore ruffled shirts with knee breeches, silver buckles on his shoes, a white powdered wig, and a three-cornered cap. People called him Captain Henderson following his service during the American Revolution. Still, she lovingly called him Grand Pa. Sitting beside him was Grandmother Adelphia Lea, tall, willowy, and elegant without an outward sign of aging. Joseph Callaway and his family were standing by her grandparents, their neighbors on Clarke Creek. Nearby, Grandpa Fadda Jarrett and Grandma Martha Ivey Jarrett were present, too. But how could this be? Grandma Jarrett had died many years ago. Grandpa Fadda’s new wife, Atha Pinkston Jarrett, and the large Jarrett clan were all seated in a circle close to the Hendersons. Hyram! Her brother’s face floated before her, but he was dead! She tried to reach out to him, but he could not be touched. Esther! Sallie! Her dear sisters! How could this be? Hyram, Esther, Sallie, all of the guests, and her grandparents were all smiling and joyful.
The images floated in and out until Martha found herself standing beside her husband, Caleb, as he talked to some of the more prominent members of the community. The topic was Georgia’s new leader, Governor Mitchell. The group was apparently quite divided on their opinions of him. Some came close to worshipping the man as a hero, while others despised everything about him, right down to his clothes. This was really nothing new. The men always seemed to have a problem with anyone in a position of power greater than their own. This constant talk of politics held very little interest for Martha, and so it was that she left her husband’s side to find something more entertaining.
Distracted, Martha caught sight of the beautiful floral arrangements her sister Isabella had gathered from her garden at Liberty Hall, the Irvin plantation. Looking closer, Martha spotted the food and headed to try a few of the many dishes arranged on tables around the lawn. The yellow and red fruits and vegetables burst with flavor as she ate. The bits of cut ham and Isabella’s apple cider were also delicious. However, she decided it would be best to refrain from further consumption until supper was served so the other guests would not think her rude.
She floated among the guests, eavesdropping, until she saw her father, Lawrence “Lary” Bankston, walking into the house toward his study. The social atmosphere had never been his favorite, and he would often sneak off on his own for a bit of peace and quiet…and some tobacco.
Martha needed to talk to Pa about some matters of faith; in particular, she wanted advice concerning the denomination where she should raise her future children. She knew her father’s views differed from her mother’s about the circuit riders preaching hellfire and damnation. She knew he loved God the Creator and trusted in Jesus for his salvation; he had no taste for the doomsday revival messages.
It was with this thought in mind that she went to see her father. She followed him out of the room, through the halls, and into the study. Sitting down, he watched her come through the door and smiled.
“Be a dear and bring me my pipe, would you, my dear Marthy?” he asked her.
“Of course, Pa,” she replied.
She brought his favorite ornately carved wooden pipe, handed it to him, and watched him pack his favorite tobacco into the small round bowl. He took the pipe into his mouth and lit it, puffing on it softly until a light smoke curled into the air. Only after this was done did his full attention return to his daughter. Martha’s words tumbled out.
“Pa, you are the only one who knows that Caleb and I are expecting our first child; I haven’t told Mother yet because I still don’t know which religion to choose for this child. If I don’t choose a believer’s baptism, she will be in such terrible distress. Should I raise my baby to be a Baptist, like Mother and my Henderson grandparents? Grandpa Peter Bankston was a Baptist, too! Do you think if the baby is a girl and I named her Nancy after Mother, she would not be so disappointed if we followed the Methodists? Caleb’s family is of the Methodist persuasion, and there are so many pastors in the family. Or should I consider the Lutheran faith, like Great-Grandpa Lawrence, or Quaker, like my Great-Grandma Rebecca Bankston? My Sappington and Jarrett grandparents were Anglican! Faith is an important part of life, Pa, and I am confused! Isabella’s and Mother’s baptism has really thrown me into disarray.”
“Well, Marthy, you know how I feel about such matters. But this is a choice for your heart. No one else can choose for you and your husband. For myself, well, I try to look at things from god's perspective and not my own. My father taught me the ways of faith from Luther’s Small Catechism, just as he had been taught, to believe God created us, together with all creatures. Look at all God has given us: body, soul, eyes, ears, limbs, and senses. Isn’t it wondrous, Marthy, how God daily and abundantly provides for us without merit or worthiness on our part?”
“Yes, Pa, I do believe what you say. But I am searching for a word from God, for God to speak, to give me an answer. Do you think God speaks to us, Pa? Sometimes it seems that He whispers to me in the night.”
“I have found it to be so, yes. I, too, have known whispers in the night. When I was a boy—and frightened of God—a man of God told me that, because I am baptized, God sees me wearing Jesus’ white robe of righteousness. God sees His son in me! When I was a young man and terror-stricken, facing down an enemy’s rifle, God whispered, ‘Do not be afraid, for I am with you.’ As an adult, when I have questioned God or struggled with doubt, your mother is always the bearer of God’s love, reminding me again to trust. God’s voice was the clearest as I watched life spring into being as you and your siblings were born.
“But, my dearest Marthy, whatever path you and Caleb choose, if you follow your heart, you and your little ones will be welcomed into God’s kingdom. That is God’s will for you. In the end, it is up to you to decide how to best raise them, and that includes deciding which denomination will suit your own beliefs.”
She hugged him tightly, saying, “Thank you for the advice, Pa. I do so love that I can talk to you about anything. I do appreciate it. I’ll do my best with the child; I think I know which direction to follow.”
In truth, however, Martha had made up her mind then and there that she would raise the children in her husband’s faith as Methodists.
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