“Front Porches & Corner Stores” The Holy Ghost

“Son! Wasn’t no visitation, the anointing aint fell, and JE you still aint saved. Lord have mercy on yo soul.  Come back tomorrow get on this altar and don't you leave till the Holy Ghost come!”

JE never did.

The organist was so full of the spirit he left his body. His fingers were running up and down the keyboard. Moving. Pushing repetitive rhythms higher and higher on top of the saints of God incessantly chanting, “Power Lord!” Tossing the song from one side of the room to the other for hours. The minute one person stopped singing another one started. The momentum was so strong, they couldn’t stop, they were locked into a sacred space in time that ushered in God's presence like a lion was in the window ready to roar. The church got caught up.  Young people were zealous. Ushers barely had time to grab enough sheets to cover long legs under short dresses with no stockings. They fell out under the anointing and when they came to themselves, they cried, ran, and gave their lives to the Lord.

The pastor was preaching hard. Sweating like he was driving a jack hammer straight through five miles of concrete busting up fallow ground. Snatching young souls from the gates of hell, throwing em over on the altar. Deacons were struggling to wipe his brow and keep up with him. Missionaries were holding backs and bellies in hands, whispering in ears, “Say Thank you Jesus! Thank Him outta yo belly! Give up to Him! Hold on to Him!” Church mothers were walking, guarding the alter floor with intercessory prayer. Stooping and rising, stooping and rising. Arms lifting in praise like angel wings. Quickening, pulling down and casting out everything that wasn’t like God.