Bicentennial Notes on Restoration History . . .

THEY CALLED HIM RACCOON

We have learned in our study thus far that the Restoration Movement drew its impetus from reformatory efforts among, the Baptists, especially from the Mahoning Association in the Western Reserve, which was finally dissolved in 1830, becoming what came to be known variously as Disciples of Christ, Christian Churches, and Churches of Christ. At the same time however the “Campbellites” and “Stoneites” were having considerable influence in Kentucky, and again it was among the Baptists in particular. There were many noble souls who were responsible for Kentucky becoming the most important state in the Movement in the early decades. One of these was John Smith, a simple name for a simple man — simple in that he was cut from common cloth. Of course he had to be nicknamed Raccoon.

He must have looked every bit that way, the Daniel Boone type, a man on a rugged frontier with a Raccoon cap. His extraordinary natural talents were matched only by his wit and a gift for repartee. He was known for his sagacity, largeness of heart, and keen insight. More than all this was his devotion to truth and his burning desire to understand the scriptures. While a Calvinistic Baptist, he was never quite satisfied with the answers passed along to him. Uneducated and even illiterate in early manhood, he had to scrounge for enough learning to be able to read. Once he learned his letters, his appetite was insatiable. He not only read everything he could get his hands on, but he dared to think and to question. One day there came into his hands a new journal from Virginia, the Christian Baptist, edited by an unknown, one Alexander Campbell. From that moment on life was never the same for Raccoon John Smith.

He was known around the state for his witty replies, and any account of him that takes no note of these would be inadequate. A favorite is the one about some city boys who were poking fun at him at the way he looked, making his way along a dusty road. “He must be Abraham,” gibed one of them. “Or Isaac,” said another. “No, I think he must be Jacob,” scoffed the third one. “Boys, you’re all wrong, for I am neither Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob,” said Raccoon with that wry smile of his. “I am Saul, the son of Kish, in search of his father’s asses, and I am surprised to find them so soon!”

Sitting in the town pub with other preachers around steins of beer, the Methodist divine supposed he should thank God for his blessing. As he prayed, Raccoon drained his mug and then had time to empty the divine’s as well, but unbeknownst to him since he was praying not only with resonant voice but with closed eyes. Surprised to see his beer gone, Raccoon jovially admonished him: “Reverend, the good Book says not only to pray, but to watch and pray!”

Upon witnessing a Methodist preacher sprinkle an unwilling subject, a kicking and screaming baby, Raccoon resolved to get back at him if ever he had opportunity. One day this preacher was standing by, watching brother Smith immerse believers in a river, as strange as it was to his eyes. Suddenly he lays hold of the preacher, forcing him toward the river, avowing that he was going to immerse him. Vehemently protesting, the preacher insisted that he did not want to be immersed, that it would do him no good if it were against his will. “I watched you baptize that baby against its will,” Raccoon argued, “and do you think it did it any good?” The preacher, barely missing a ducking, must have caught the point.

That was Raccoon John Smith. To know him was to love him, even when he taunted you with his repartee. Perhaps it was his transparency that attracted people to him. They could see that he was critical of himself and made no boastful claims to inerrancy. A year or so before he met Campbell he was giving a fervent exhortation when he was struck with the inconsistencies of his Calvinistic position. Stopping suddenly in his discourse, he cried out to the surprise of his audience: “Something is wrong among us, but how to get it right I know not.”

He hardly knew what to think of what he read in Campbell’s journal, but he was eager to hear the man on his visit to Kentucky the next year (1824), which was Campbell’s first of many trips to that state. Upon meeting him for the first time, in a private home prior to preaching, he states that his curiosity about the man was so intense that he simply wanted to sit and look at him for an hour. Once he heard him preach, he expressed disappointment that he had traveled so far by horseback to hear a man speak but 30 minutes. He was urged to consult his watch. “On looking, I found it had been two hours and thirty minutes, and simply said, “Two hours of my time are gone and I know not how, though wide awake’”.

Campbell had taught on the place of the covenants in Gal. 4, drawing upon Paul’s allegory of Sarah and Hagar, which continued to be one of his favorite themes for a lifetime. Someone asked brother Smith what he now thought of the controversial Campbell. “Be he devil or saint, he has thrown more light on that epistle and the whole Scriptures than I have heard in all the sermons I ever listened to before.” It was a new beginning for John Smith. He soon found himself to be one of the reforming Baptists of Kentucky. He became a moulder of a Movement.

Life had been rough for John up to this point. Born in poverty to a pioneer family in east Tennessee in 1784, his years were marked by illness and tragedy. He took his young bride, Anna Townsend, into the wilds of Wayne County, Kentucky, where he preached as he could while eking out a meager existence from the soil. He moved to Alabama, hoping to escape poverty. Here he had visions of being a plantation owner, with slaves and all, even if it meant no more preaching. But tragedy struck again and again in quick succession, redirecting his life. A vicious fire destroyed his log cabin home, and two of his children were burned to death. His wife never recovered from the tragedy and died soon afterward. He himself came down with the dreaded “cold plague” and lingered for months between life and death. Once he recovered, he supposed the Lord was chastening him because he desired to quit preaching for the sake of gain. He returned to Kentucky a humbler and sadder man. He began to preach with power and persuasion, and he was soon in great demand among the Baptists. In the meantime he married Nancy Hurt, who was to be his wife for half a century.

Once Campbell’s influence had the effect of freeing him from Calvinistic sectarianism, it became more and more evident to his Baptist brethren that a change had been wrought in his life. His goal was now to restore the ancient gospel, but this was not without opposition. His associates. figured that he would soon disassociate himself from the Baptists, and many of them supposed it would be a good riddance. But he wouldn’t leave them, insisting that he loved them too much for that. When an impatient Calvinist insisted that he should quietly go and leave them alone, Raccoon told of how his brother tried in vain to swap horses with an Irishman. Declining the deal, the Irishman said, “It would be a pity, Mr. Smith, to part you and your horse, for you think so very much of him!” Raccoon assured his Calvinistic brother that it was that way with the Baptists and himself: “We love you too well to give you up!”

This was the common attitude of our people in those early days. They were resolved to work among the existing denominations of which they were a part, reformers though they were. They never did really separate, not in the main, but were eventually excluded by the mainline churches. This happened to Raccoon, more or less, for he was strongly opposed by status quo Baptists. Meetinghouses were locked against him; he was scandalized as a divider of churches and even as a hog thief. But many Baptists became “Reformers” or “Campbellites,” sometimes entire congregations. When a minority of Baptists held on to the building, the majority would leave and start a “church of Christ” somewhere in the area. Soon Raccoon was the acknowledged leader of the reformation in Kentucky. The cause spread like a prairie fire. It was not unusual for Raccoon to immerse 30 or 40 in a single day. One report on a few months in 1828 referred to 800 immersions.

The separation from the Baptists was at last tragically solidified, though Raccoon always spoke in terms of desiring fellowship with Christians of all denominations. Now that the Disciples were on their own and no longer thought of in terms of “Reformed Baptists,” they began more and more to come upon the “Christians” of the Barton W. Stone movement. The Stone reformation had begun in Cane Ridge, in the same state, the same year that Raccoon was immersed, 25 years earlier in 1804. It was sometimes referred to as the “Christian Connection” and had gained a wide following throughout Kentucky, with upwards of 10,000 members.

John devoted himself to the task of uniting the Reformers and the Christians, which was finally affected in 1831 in Lexington, Kentucky, which stands out as one of the great moments in our history. This could never have been but for the small unity gatherings held here and there in the area of Georgetown, led by John Smith and John T. Johnson of the Disciples and Barton W. Stone and John Rogers of the Christians. There was much opposition to such a union - both ways - because of the differences between them. That such a union was achieved is one of the great stories in American church history. It is even more significant that it lasted, going on to become the great force it has been in this country and around the world.

This was achieved because of the faith and dedication of a few concerned people, John Smith being one of them. It was he, at that momentous gathering in Lexington, that spoke those oft-repeated words: “Let us, then, my brethren, be no longer Campbellites or Stoneites, New Lights or Old Lights, or any other kind of lights, but let us all come to the Bible, and to the Bible alone, as the only book in the world that can give us all the light we need.”

Once the peace was made it was something else to keep it. The two groups, now one Movement for the unity of all believers, selected Raccoon and John Rogers to go out among the churches and solidify the union. Since the Disciples were especially reluctant to accept the Stone brethren, Raccoon prepared an Address to the Brethren in which he sought to dispel their fears and to show them that unity in Jesus does not necessitate exact doctrinal conformity. This Address is a precious document in our history, one too long neglected. He makes these points in particular: (1) We have no right to reject as brothers those who believe and obey Jesus just as we have; (2) We should allow to others that which we claim for ourselves, the right of private judgment; (3) We can break bread with other believers without sanctioning any sectarian peculiarities they may have; (4) In receiving brethren into the fellowship of our congregations we are to require only what was required by the apostles; (5) The union between Reformers and Christians does not mean that we wish to join the immersed and unimmersed in the congregation of Christ, for it was not so in the primitive church.

Raccoon John Smith labored on for almost 40 years, living to the ripe old age of 84, surviving Campbell by two years. Much of his time was spent in the Kentucky back country where he had preached Calvinism in his youth. He was resolved to undo that by preaching the ancient gospel to the same people. He immersed many thousands and planted hundreds of congregations, and his constant plea was the unity of believers on the basis of the one faith, despite a hundred opinions. He went home from Mexico, Missouri, to join that glorious host, which in this case ought to be as good as anywhere in Texas. Among his last words were these, which reflect the way he had lived: “What a great failure, after all, would my long and checkered life have been but for this glorious hope of a hereafter.” —the Editor
 

In Christian Baptism there is more than water and words, and the action of immersion. There is a grace, a special grace. Baptism is valid grace, and no more. —Alexander Campbell, Mill. Harb., 1854, p. 124.