Holiness or Hell, Pt. 2.

The man’s breath smelled. He put his hand on my shoulder and prayed….

My church camp xperience was in 1984. Twelve years later, I had just moved out on my own and was staring my career with the Post Office. As is often the case when small town people have kids moving to the big city, my parents tried to connect me with people they knew—relatives of someone who went to our church, a friend of my grandmother’s. They'd invited me to church that Sunday...they attended a church that was affiliated with a semi-major televangelist, which was super common in Tulsa back in the 90s. I attended the morning service with them, had lunch with them, and ended up returning that night [Pentecostal churches are big on going to church on Sunday night, it's usually when they cut loose.]

Looking back, I can really understand how a lot of these churches operate. They break you down, tire you out, and then try to push you into certain actions. You stand and sing for hours, then the pastor gives his message. I remember they'd sing this song where they'd talk about "Blood and Fire...we call upon blood and fire...a stream flowing strong...it's flowing from heaven." They'd sing for at least an hour or two, and you'd stand the whole time. AFter the pastor spoke, you'd stand yet again while they try to get you to come forward. They appeal to the sick who want healing. They appeal to those who feel the need to confess and be forgiven. And they appeal to the lonely. They often call this “the altar call”, though in this case we were meeting in a convention center and there was no actual altar.

In Pentecostal type churches, people often believe that God can give them special abilities, almost like powers. They’re called “the gifts of the Spirit.” Though this sounds very strange to everyone else, for someone growing up in the church it didn’t seem unusual at all. Someone would give “a message” in tongues, which would just sound like someone speaking in a foreign language. Our pastor had “the gift of interpretation,” and after several moments, he would say what the message meant. That night, it was my turn to break down, at least sort of. The man sitting next to me put his hand on my shoulder. He told me "You've got some heavy burdens there." He prayed for a moment, and then turned to his wife, who laid her hands on me as well. "You have a spirit of rejection that has been following you since you were a little boy." The man asked me, "Would you like to receive the Holy Ghost?"

I've been in that situation before, and it is almost impossible to resist. I wasn't able to do it now. It was not like the time at church camp. He simply prayed and then asked me to just speak. I figured he would be able to tell I wasn't really doing it, but I made sounds with my mouth. He was none the wiser, and got all excited, and told his wife, "This young mans just received the Holy Spirit!"

I felt like a fraud, but I told my parents I had been filled with the Spirit, and they of course were very happy, as was my grandmother. I started attending that church, mainly in the hopes of meeting people. I joined the group for young people my age, but as usual, didn't really fit with the people there. I knew people kind of gave me the side eye when I'd speak in tongues. I soon stopped. I eventually quit going to church at all, when it became obvious I really didn't belong there.

I don't really have an explanation for what happened---other than I was a young person and probably looked pretty downtrodden so it might have been an easy guess to think I had the problems the couple at the church thought I had. They believed in it. Mass hysteria is a powerful thing, we see it more and more these days. I think the way my brain works though, I could never give myself fully to whatever it was. Years later, I tried attending a non-Pentecostal type church, though I didnt fit in there either, though I at least didn't constantly feel pressure to display spiritual ecstasies.

I don't regret it, because it makes for an interesting story. Like most things that have happened to me in my life. I still wonder though if I might end up in the Devil's Hell....