Toungues of Fire in the Quarter

Lucy and Jim Stamper were my great-grandparents.

They were sharecroppers who loved Jesus and believed deeply in the fire of Pentecost. As they followed the crops across northeast Louisiana, they left something else behind them as well — churches.

The Woolen Lake Church of God on the Boeuf River in Richland Parish and the Pleasant Grove Church of God deep in the woods of Caldwell Parish were both started on their front porch.

At night they would drag the instruments out onto that porch. The family would gather, the singing would begin, and they would sing the glory down before the preaching started.

They had 53 grandchildren.

I grew up in those churches. My dad’s cousins were more like aunts, uncles, and sisters than cousins. They were my school teachers, pastors’ wives, mentors, and fellow musicians. I loved them deeply, and they formed me in ways I’m still discovering today.

Because of them I grew up with a deep love for family, a deep sense of Pentecostal legacy, and a passion for the gospel and for church planting. That Stamper blood runs deep.

This painting, Tongues of Fire in the Quarter, is my tribute to that legacy.

I painted it in an expressionist style rather than a realistic one, because memories like these live more in the emotions than in the mind. The old screen doors, worn instruments, porch lamps, mosquitoes in the night air, the fiery red hair, and above all the fire of Pentecost — the powerful moves of the Holy Spirit we experienced together.

My prayer is that God will raise up in this generation some new Lucys and Jims — men and women who will give their lives to the gospel wherever God plants them — so that we may once again witness a visitation of Pentecost in our time.

Lord, let it be so.