Again born...

My Daddy always said, ‘those church folks are the biggest hypocrites.’ Of course, my Daddy was a drunk, Emily recalled as she drove slowly on her way to Faith Church. It was a Sunday evening in late October. The Delta sun was blinding as it slowly dipped beneath the flat cotton fields busy with combines, trucks, and smoldering fires to burn off the remaining chaff. Emily pulled down her visor, yanking it loose, providing slightly more shade from the penetrating rays. Her sunglasses were lost to her, like the warmth of the summer when she had used them last. She adjusted the temperature as there was still a slight chill in the air. Most would say it was warm, but she tended to be cold natured, perhaps a holdover from her childhood when she and her siblings had to endure a fierce winter wind inside the thin walls of farm shacks. The shacks were a meager shelter her Daddy managed to negotiate as part of his pay as a seasonal farm hand in-between his drunken binges. On those rare occasions when her mom would emerge from her own darkness, she would turn on the gas stove and open the oven door providing some slight reprise from the winter cold. Emily remembered standing as close as possible without physically touching the oven, twisting back and forth, basking simultaneously in the heat on one side and enduring the cold on the other. Delta life was one of extremes for everyone, with very little space left for anyone in the middle.

Emily turned south on Divide Street, gaining some relief from the blinding, setting sun. Now that she could see better, she picked up a little speed, but not too fast. She intended not to be early for the revival service. Not having been raised in any church, she had bounced around from church to church throughout her life, mostly of the Baptist or Methodist variety as an occasional visitor with family and friends. Her and her husband Jim were married in his Momma’s living room by an uncle who was a preacher, or at least used to be, but she didn’t know much about his denominational affiliation. Religion beyond what was learned by listening to Country music wasn’t all that important to either of them. Everyone in the Delta was a Christian even if they didn’t attend church every Sunday.

Emily had been invited repeatedly by her friend Rachel to visit her church and had run out of excuses. She and Rachel worked together at the local florist called “Coming up Daisies.” She started there in earnest last Valentine’s Day to help with the Holiday rush and was kept on, because according to Rachel, she “had an eye for detail and a million-dollar smile.” Emily wasn’t sure her smile was worth all that much, but she was confident that she and Jim could use the extra income.

Things had slowed down for Jim at the bottling plant, as the city of Corinth, Missouri, was experiencing a slow down like the rest of the country. A few political opportunists were eager to label it a recession, although it didn’t quite technically qualify, but people were feeling some money stress, especially those in Southeast Missouri. Jim tried to get on at the steel mills down in Blytheville but with little success, “Got to be luckier than a three-legged dog to get one of those jobs” he lamented. Corinth was close enough to the Arkansas line and its exact location was often mistaken, but when it came to poverty of culture and economics, there weren't any real differences. Like the mighty Mississippi River just a few miles east of town, it was either flood or famine, with most folks just attempting to hold on for dear life.

Emily was thankful for her job as it provided enough to get them through the current crisis, although she was a bit concerned about Jim’s mental state with prospects in the city dwindling. Jim was drinking more and speaking less, and she was finding her thoughts more preoccupied with him, them, and their future together, or perhaps hers without him. Last March they had celebrated their six-year anniversary down in Memphis, with dinner at The Butcher Block, a novelty steak place downtown. Jim’s buddies were convinced that nothing says romance like raw meat being prepared at your table. It wasn’t necessarily Emily’s taste, but she didn’t complain as the effort was appreciated and they weren’t able to get out of town all that often. Even though they couldn’t afford it they both convinced themselves they needed it. Afterwards they took a stroll down Beale Street on the early Spring night, taking in the lights, the live music, and a few beers, before returning to consummate their anniversary properly at the Comfort Inn just across the River in West Memphis.

They had sex, but not the raw ambitious kind they had enjoyed more frequently before getting married and earlier in those first few honeymoon months, it was more like familiar, ordinary, ‘let’s finish and get to sleep’ kind of married sex that was now turning six but felt much older if she was being honest -more mature, but a lot less fun. Although they were both generally optimistic about the future and were contemplating having children soon, the shared concerns about Corinth being able to provide what their fledgling family might need for a secure future. This caused them both hesitation in most every decision. Emily just wasn’t sure she could spend the rest of her life with Jim.

Emily’s fleeting thoughts left her mind as she slowed to turn into the parking lot of Faith Church. The parking lot was full when, as Emily planned, she timed her arrival with the start of the service, it was 5:59, so just a minute or so to spare. Perfect! She thought. She arranged to meet Rachel in the foyer, as she wasn’t keen on meeting new people, at least not initially.

As she opened the front door to the wide foyer on the front of the auditorium, she was nearly pushed back with the muted sounds of loud music coming from just inside the auditorium. The church was erected in the 1960’s as “The First Faith Church” of Corinth, Missouri. In the eighties the cinder block building was remodeled by an ambitious young pastor who convinced the dwindling congregation that a name change was also warranted in order to attract younger couples. He had attended a church conference at a big church down in Louisiana and had come back all excited, the older folks reluctantly agreed, and refused to pay for him to go to any more church conferences. He resigned two months later. That’s when Rev. Robert and Toni Camper were elected unanimously to lead the church. Well, practically unanimously. There was one abstention, as there most always is in these kinds of matters. Pastor Bob (as everyone called him) resembled an upside-down light bulb with a receding hairline and a fluffed afro resembling a poor man’s version of Tom Selleck circa 1985 without the mustache, at least from the neck up, and was in his early forties, his wife Toni, some five years younger had a look that was chameleon like, her style vacillating between Little House on the Prairie chic and ostentatious Vegas punk. Depending on where she was at and who she was around, she could be quite the shape shifter and rumor had it that her parents, who were big deals in the denomination were convinced she could do no wrong. Toni was church royalty and was treated as such.

Young and ambitious the Campers were convinced this church at Corinth was their shot to ecclesiastical success and security. Pastor Bob’s dad was a famous evangelist and had traveled all over the world spreading the faith message, young Robert had become quite famous himself within the denomination as a singer and preacher in his own right. They came to Corinth just a couple of years earlier and by all accounts had turned the church around. Attendance and giving was up and they were poised to move the church into the Twenty-First century as a legitimate religious influencer in the community.

Of course, this history was unbeknownst to Emily as she greeted Rachel with a smile and hug. “Sorry, I’m late, I had intended to get here early and meet some folks but had to get Jim’s supper on the table first.” Emily lied. Rachel responded not the least bit concerned, “No problem, I’m so glad you came!” There were a few people in the foyer, mostly kids and few elderly folks shuffling about. Emily was careful to avoid eye contact, but she could tell she was the object of a curious gaze from all those that toddled past her. “Let’s go in,” Rachel interrupted Emily’s thoughts. “Sure, I just need to go to the bathroom first” Emily stated looking around for the women’s room. “Right there.” Rachel pointed. Emily stepped inside the bathroom just to check her reflection in the mirror and to make one last tug or two in her clothing. Emily made a quick decision and pulled a clip from her bag pinning her shoulder length dark brown hair up in a clip making her appear a little older than she was, and certainly more “church lady” in appearance. Emily quickly touched up her red lipstick, a nonnegotiable in any setting for her and quickly washed her hands. She flashed her brown eyes at herself in the mirror and exited to rejoin Rachel in the lobby.

“Alright, all set!”

“Great!” Rachel responded, “You’re going to love my church! I just know it.”

Rachel opened the back door of the auditorium revealing a long rectangle room with twenty or so pews on each side divided by a long aisle. Emily followed Rachel just a few pews in from the back and they slid into an empty one just right of the aisle. The aisle led to a stage in the front of the auditorium which was occupied by a swaying robed choir that was much more animated than anything Emily had ever experienced at a church. In fact, the way they swayed to the unnecessarily loud music, was what first struck Emily as unusual about this church. The beat of the acoustic drum set, played by a teenager who was much too young and appeared to be too shy to be in front of folks, was positioned to the right of the choir. While rhythmic it was also awkward. As awkward as the kid who played them, Emily imagined. Not to be outdone, the drums were matched by an equally awkward bass player who seemed much too old to be in front of anyone anywhere, unless headlining for the geriatric gentlemen at the local Green Acres nursing home facility.

An attractive young blond woman was bouncing on the keyboards and seemed to be the only real musician among the motley crew. Emily would later learn that the attractive blond was the Pastor’s wife, Toni Camper. One person on the platform seemed oddly out of place, playing the electric guitar, not necessarily playing it well but with an unbridled enthusiasm. He was an attractive Black man, tall and fit, clean cut, and he seemed focused on his craft and oblivious to most of what was happening around him. Surveying the moving bodies scattered about the auditorium, Emily quickly identified who she assumed was attached to this single solitary anomaly of color among a sea of white faces, a young Black woman with two small children to her side.

“Send it on down, Lord, let the Holy Ghost c’mon down” The choir sung redundantly and with vigor. The atmosphere was electric. Emily tried to categorize what she was experiencing. It seemed strangely...electric. It was hot and humid compared to the crisp fall air just outside. Bodies moved and gyrated to the beat of the poorly played gospel music. A few young men in the front leapt up and down, while some younger and a few older women pranced across the front. The women and the men seemed to mimic epileptic seizures that were almost orgasmic. Rachel sensing her discomfort leaned over and practically shouted in her ear “These folks are worshiping! Emily smiled and nodded her head, “It’s great!” and for the second time in just a few minutes lied again to her friend to disguise her discomfort.

The choir continued to sway and sing, but folks didn’t seem to mind. The cacophony climaxed in a crescendo of vibrating cymbals and shouts from the congregation. Then they started singing again and then after another chorus or two, Pastor Bob stepped to the microphone, “I feel the Holy Ghost moving in this place! We are just getting started, reach out and lay hands on the person next to you and pray that God will submerge all of us in his presence tonight!” Rachel reached over and gently touched the small of Emily’s back and begin to pray, “Lord of Heaven fill my friend!” Emily was startled but couldn’t deny that she felt something inexplicable. Her face grew flush, and a rush of emotions swept over her. She felt exposed and vulnerable. She began to cry.

Emily’s crying had attracted a crowd. Suddenly, she felt a lot of hands on her back, as she was encouraged to continue praying by the voices of strangers she did not recognize.

“It’s the Lord!”

“Just surrender your life to him!”

She could no longer distinguish the voices from one another, she simultaneously felt claustrophobic and euphoric in a way that she couldn’t explain. Rachel was in her ear once again, “Oh just tell Jesus how much you love him!” Emily had never really been a public person, and this was certainly out of character for her. But she couldn’t stop, everyone seemed to be so happy for what she was experiencing. The choir seemed to be getting louder, and inexplicably she felt her feet moving toward the front of the auditorium. Rachel had taken her by the hand and was leading her down the middle aisle as the well-wishers thronged around her. Upon reaching the front with Rachel by her side, Emily felt her hands collapse to her side. She had lost all track of time, and the whole experience reminded her of the cotton field fires that where ubiquitous this time of year, things got hot very quickly but burned out just as quickly, lots of smoke and heat, but always a short lived enkindle for lack of substance to burn. But Emily didn’t know that things were just getting started.

Pastor Bob introduced the revival guest speaker, “Nothing more to do but turn this service over to our evangelist! Emily didn’t hear much after that as everyone around her erupted once again into loud chants of “Praise the Lord!” “Hallelujah!” “Yes sir!” Emily didn’t even catch the special speaker’s name, but just heard people mumbling around her, “He’s the Prophet from Louisiana.” When the Prophet entered stage right from a door just off the auditorium, what Emily saw was what appeared to be a rather short man, 5’5 or so, with slicked back jet-black hair and held in place by an excessive amount of product. His suit was dark blue, and his tie was wide with a flashy assortment of brightly colored fleur-de-lis. His suit was tailored and buttoned, his white shirt pressed and starched with silver cufflinks peeking out from his jacket sleeves, they appeared to have doves on them.

Taking the mic from Pastor Bob, a hush fell across the auditorium. What was an incredibly loud place just a few moments earlier, was now eerily quiet. The Prophet spoke in deliberate ways, drawing out his words with confidence and authority, albeit a distinctively southern accent.

The Prophet’s eyes were a sharp blue, he appeared to be slightly younger than Pastor Bob. Emily guessed he was in his late thirties; his gaze was intense and once he started looking at her, he never adverted his eyes elsewhere. Looking straight at her with a smile that resembled the guy that read the news on tv, he said “Welcome! I take it this is your first time to experience a revival service?” Emily thought herself somewhat aware of what was happening and even had some sense of how it was happening, nevertheless with the Prophet’s eyes intently trained on her and the gaze of perhaps a hundred and fifty others who filled the auditorium that night, she was strangely attracted to what was happening.

“Yes sir.” She responded.

“Well, we are glad that you are here!” The Prophet spoke.

The crowd erupted in applause. Emily felt validated for her achievement, although she still wasn’t sure what she had accomplished.

“What you feel young lady is the Holy Ghost!” The Prophet revealed.

“Yes sir!”

“How does that make you feel?”

“I feel good...strange...different.” The crowd laughed knowingly.

Emily nervously laughed in response, unsure if the folks there really understood what she was experiencing.

“But God isn’t done with you! He wants you to be filled with his Spirit. Do you want to know the joy that it is to be filled with the Holy Ghost?” The Prophet queried.

Unsure as to exactly what he was talking about, Emily hesitated. But knowing that so many people were looking at her, she didn’t want to disappoint them. She turned to catch a glimpse of Rachel standing to her right, who was smiling from ear to ear with tears streaming down her face nodding her head enthusiastically.

“Yes sir.” Emily replied.

“Amen! Young lady, God is about to fill you up! In just a moment we are going to agree with you to receive this gift. Just lift your hands as a sign of surrender. I’ll lay my hands on you, and you will feel joy bubble up and come out of your mouth in the form of words you don’t understand, you will speak in a heavenly language! Ok?”

Emily nodded her head affirmatively. Emily was lying again, albeit this time she really wanted what she was saying to be true, but she couldn’t be sure of anything that was happening.

“Ok! Throw your hands in the air!” The Prophet commanded.

Emily complied.

As her hands went up in the air, she felt her body leaning back into the arms of those that were around her. Her body temperature began to rise as she felt the emotional catharsis return. She was barely conscious of the music cranking up once again, strangely it no longer seemed unnecessarily loud. She felt herself floating in the warmth of a hundred supporters that were validating everything she was experiencing.

In any other setting this would have been inappropriate, the Prophet was so close she could smell him. His scent was aromatic, crisp and clean with a hint of mint and tobacco, like what she recalled of those rare moments of sobriety when she set in her Father’s lap. This scent triggered her emotions once again further ramping up her tears now with deep moans she couldn’t fully understand or control. She felt herself losing command of her basic motor functions, her knees were weak, and she was only held up by the supportive arms of those around her. She didn’t know these people, but they were sharing an intimacy reserved for lovers. At this point she no longer cared.

The Prophet saw her explosion of emotion as his cue to lean in even closer. Emily was aware that he had now positioned his leg forward between hers, apparently to steady himself for what was to come next. But instinctively her thighs crept forward closer to his leg. She could feel that her breasts were weirdly erect as they ever so slightly were skimming the proximity of his perfectly starched chest. Everything was moving so quickly around her, but she felt encapsulated in a shell of exclusivity, it was her and the Prophet -alone. Every eye was on her, voyeuristically watching as she writhed back and forth into the body of the Prophet and the nurturing bodies behind her. Her skirt was inkling up, constricting on her vibrating hips, she danced rhythmically on her red stilettos. She was putty.

It was into this sea of emotional pleasure that the Prophet spoke into her ear, “Listen to me carefully.” He spoke with gentleness and authority. “I’m going to lay my hand on your head and when I do, let your tongue go. Let your mouth do whatever it wants, say whatever comes to your lips, just let it flow. Let it go!” Emily opened her eyes ever so slightly, just wide enough to see the intensity of his whetted blue eyes looking deep into her. She closed them again, throwing her body forward into his, moving her legs ever wider prepped to receive.

The Prophet began to shout, “Now! Here it is!” Emily felt the pressure of his hand on her hand, and she felt a rush of intensity shoot through her body. Every nerve in her body fulminated with warmth as she twitched forward and back. Her cheeks were flush with emotion. Her lips were red with desire and from them she heard the slightest, softest of gibberish she could not comprehend. “That’s it! That’s it! That’s the Holy Ghost!” The Prophet screamed in her ear.

Emily felt emotions detonate all around her, she was sure spittle was landing on the back of her neck, as she rocked back and forth into the arms of those behind her. Emily pushed her body forward into the Prophet. If this was what he wanted she was determined to give it to him. She gave volume to whatever was coming out of her mouth and leaned into him so he could hear every syllable. His leg was now firmly planted between her thighs, and she shouted “Shka la tu mu tha” “La lee da da! Hola ma thai ati!” His leg firmly positioned between her legs never moved as she jounced up and down on it. None of her words made sense, they didn’t have to, people were jumping up and down around her in confirmation that she had received the Holy Ghost. Repeatedly she rocked into the Prophet until she finally collapsed into the hands of those around her.

When Emily opened her eyes, her clothes were disheveled, her hair and makeup were a mess. The first face that met hers was Rachel. They embraced. “I’m so proud for you Emily! Your life will never be the same.”

By this time the Prophet had returned to the stage. Looking down at her with the same authority he had spoken with before, he asked, “What happened to you, young lady?” Emily felt fresh and clean like she sometimes had felt after having a good cry, only this was way more intense, but she still had trouble putting it into words. “I don’t know...” She managed to get the words out. The congregation erupted in laughter. The Prophet laughed as well. “That’s understandable. God blessed you by filling you with the Holy Ghost! Now don’t let anyone talk you out of it!”

“Yes sir!” Emily smiled as she responded. She felt initiated into something larger than herself and felt as if her and the Prophet had shared an intimacy that no one could ever take away from her.

She was lying again, but this time as truthfully as she ever had.