Chapter 16: The Revival

Nate and Henry sat in the tent and listened to the hubbub of the crowd. The noise level dropped a bit when a large woman in a blue, full dress with puffy sleeves walked to the front and sat at an old, upright piano. Three other equally large women, in similar dresses, came up and stood in front of a big microphone next to the piano. All four had lacquered hair piled high above their heads, and from the picture poster outside the tent, Nate knew these were the Gospelenes.

The woman at the piano broke immediately into a pounding introduction that silenced everyone in the tent. She played in a stride style. Both hands would come close together at the middle notes on the down beats, then fly to extremes, high and low, to strike accent notes and chords on the upbeats. The three women at the microphone didn’t sing at first, rather, they swayed their large hips in rhythm with the music. They eventually did sing “Come, All You Sinners, into the House of the Lord.”

As the song seemed to be winding down, a lone figure entered the front of the tent and stood, staring appreciatively at the Gospelenes, rhythmically tapping his fingers on a large, black book he held in his hands. He wore a suit the color of vanilla ice cream and had coal black hair, slicked back and just slightly in need of cutting.

A soon as the song ended, he jumped forward and shouted, “Welcome, indeed, all sinners into this tent, which tonight is, in fact, the house of the Lord.”

He put his hands up deferentially and waved off potential praise or attack and held his book up over his head. Printed on the cover in large, gold letters, was the single word “Bible.”

“Not because of what I or these marvelous songbirds of Christ have brought, but because Jesus himself said that ‘where two or three of you are gathered in my Father’s name, there, too, will I be.’”

He eyed the crowd and walked the front perimeter. He shook hands with three people in the front row and asked loudly, “Have you come tonight in God’s name?”

They each answered yes.

He waved the bible in the air, paced vigorously in front of the congregation, and shouted, “Amen then, we know by his own words that Jesus himself is here with us tonight.”

The crowd erupted with amens, and Nate felt goose bumps run up and down his back. It felt as if a presence had suddenly joined the tent. Even Henry squirmed uneasily in his seat.

“I am the Reverend Ralph Johnson, and these four ladies, who joyfully sing the praises of the Lord, are the Gospelenes. Together, we welcome all of you to this Faith Crusade.”

The woman at the piano made a quick run on the bass keys and the Gospelenes sang “Jesus at the Door, Let Him in, Let Him in.” The rhythm this time was a counterpoint with the piano player’s hands pumping up and down in alternate patterns like pistons. People clapped along and some joined in on the second and third choruses, after they learned what the words were. Nate’s face was warm and he clapped along too. Henry was content to merely tap his toes.

As soon as the song ended, the Reverend said, “This is a Faith Crusade, and we’re here to talk about and act on our faith.” He paced and then stopped mid-stride as if a thought had just come to him. “Three questions come to my mind about faith: What is it? Where does it come from? And how can I get me some?”

The crowd laughed at how he said the last question.

“Well, for those of you who just came to talk about faith, let me get right to the answers, so you can get home to your sofas and quit having to sit on these hard, old excuses for chairs we’ve provided tonight.”

Everybody laughed again.

The Reverend Ralph Johnson’s face turned serious and he snapped crisply, “Faith is the absolute knowledge that God wants what’s best for you. It comes from God, and if you want it, you get it just by the reaching out and taking it.”

The whole crowd was silent as the preacher paused.

“There, it’s just that simple, you can all go home now.” He turned to leave the tent, then pivoted abruptly back toward the congregation. He used one hand to point his bible at the crowd and put his other hand on his hip. “It’s just that simple if you think faith is something you just talk about.” He grinned and said, “Some of you were getting excited there for a moment, thinking we were going to get out early.”

The crowd laughed once more.

“The truth is, faith you just talk about is a shallow, empty faith. To be true faith, it must be something you act on.”

Someone in the back of the tent said, “Amen,” and people shuffled in their chairs.

“Consider the story about Jesus walking on the water at the Sea of Galilee. As the apostles saw him and wondered at it, Jesus put out his hand and beckoned to Peter to join him.” He stretched his hands out to the crowd in demonstration. “Just like Jesus invites all of you tonight to have faith in him and act on that faith.”

Several more amens came from around the crowd.

“Was it enough for Peter to sit in the boat and marvel at the miracle of Jesus walking on water? Did Jesus say, ‘Make yourselves comfortable while I walk around on this water for awhile?’” He paused and the tent was quiet except for the sounds of the moths crashing into the bare bulbs strung throughout the tent. “No, Jesus beckoned to Peter to join him. He asked Peter to act on his faith. And Peter did act on that faith, and he stepped onto the Sea of Galilee, and he walked on water.”

Lots of amens rose up around the tent. Some listeners had their eyes shut, as if in rapture.

“And then what happened?”

He paused for a moment and spoke so softly that everyone had to strain to hear.

“Peter lost his faith.” He then repeated it loudly, punctuating each syllable like a hammer striking a nail. “He lost his faith.” He swept his bible over the crowd. “He quit acting on his faith and immediately began to sink into the water.” He then pulled his hands back and clutched at his chest. “And when we quit acting on our faith, don’t we begin to sink?”

The crowd became animated with rocking, amens, and a general murmuring of assent.

“We sink into depression, we sink into drinking, we sink into mean spiritedness, we sink into lust.”

He paused while everyone put themselves into one or more of the categories he had described.

“How sad this story would be if Peter had just kept sinking and had drowned, how desperate our lives would seem.”

The absolute silence in the crowd testified to the level of desperation in the tent.

“But Peter cried out, ‘Help me, Lord.’” The preacher reached his hand out, imploringly, to the crowd. “He cried, ‘Help me, Lord,’ and what did Jesus do?”

The Reverend Ralph Johnson waited with his eyes shut until someone in the tent could bear the tension no longer and muttered tentatively, “He saved him.”

“He saved him,” the Reverend Ralph Johnson shouted. “Jesus grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him from the Sea of Galilee, because Peter had acted on his faith and had prayed to God when he was weak. And when Peter acted on his faith and prayed to Jesus, He saved him.”

The tent erupted with hallelujahs, amens, and all manner of praying.

“Tonight, some people here are in pain and are sinking. They need Jesus, but are afraid to act on their faith. I beg you to come forward and act on that faith. Ask Jesus to help you tonight.”

There was a tense silence and nothing happened.

The Reverend Ralph Johnson closed his eyes and prayed, “Lord, I feel the pain and desperation in this tent tonight from so many of your children. I feel it in particular from one who has a secret pain she’s been afraid to talk about. I also feel the pain of a man who is wearied from acting like he’s strong enough on his own, but knows he needs your help. I now feel the fear of someone who’s almost ready to ask for help, because there’s no one else. She’s afraid to ask, because she doesn’t know what she’ll do if you don’t answer. She has no one else to turn to. Give that person the strength now to come forward and receive that help from you.”

A murmur spread from the back of the tent and everyone looked back. Maddie Flanagan was limping towards the front. The Reverend Ralph Johnson didn’t speak, he just walked a few steps into the aisle to meet her and stared at her with compassionate eyes.

In a hoarse, broken voice Maddie said, “My legs are getting weak and the doctor says I’m dying.”

The crowd groaned sympathetically. Nate looked for Doctor Lightcap at the edge of the tent, but couldn’t find him.

“I’ve prayed, but it’s done no good.” Her voice seemed reproachful, yet pleading at the same time.

The Reverend Ralph Johnson squinted his once compassionate eyes into beacons of interrogation. “Who did you pray to, Jesus or some plastic statue you thought could take his place?”

The crowd gasped, and Maddie’s face went white. Everyone wondered how he could’ve known about Maddie’s plastic Jesus.

“No plastic Jesus can fix your legs, only the real Jesus, who lives not on your dashboard but in your innermost heart.” The Reverend Ralph Johnson cranked his voice up and started stressing every syllable. “Believe in THAT Jesus and act on THAT faith and you shall be healed.” He reached out to Maddie, and she fell into his arms. In a soothing, almost motherly, sing-song he said, “Pray with me now, have faith, act on that faith, and be healed.”

Maddie Flanagan let out a sound that was part scream, part sob, and part shout of relief. She pulled out of the Reverend Ralph Johnson’s arms and twirled in the aisle, stopping occasionally to jump with joy. The tent went crazy with jubilation. People clapped, some shouted, “Hallelujah,” and even Nate shouted out, “Amen,” in the spirit of it all.

The preacher gave a quick eye-check to the Gospelenes, who immediately sang “I Have Walked on Galilee’s Flood” while the congregation clapped and Maddie Flanagan twirled. The Reverend Ralph Johnson stood by and clapped, too, while he watched Maddie dance. After that, there was more healing, Mr. Wanamaker’s brother-in-law gave up the drink, and there was more singing and preaching. Finally, they passed the collection baskets, which came back brimming with bills, after the Reverend Ralph Johnson explained that giving gifts in time of hardship was one way of acting on your faith, thus assuring that your prayers would be answered.

When it was all over, people poured out into the parking lot, shaking hands, slapping backs, and showing all kinds of fellowship in general. Nate and Henry found Jeremiah Lightcap and they huddled out of the way.

Henry said, “Christians or not, they’ll run you into a ditch to get back onto the highway. Let’s stay put for awhile until the parking lot clears.”

Maddie Flanagan jaunted past them and over to her Bel-Air parked a few rows away.

“Maddie,” Jeremiah called out.

“Don’t be giving me any of your talk,” she said. “I’m healed.”

“Just don’t overdo,” he said softly.

“Leave me alone,” Maddie shouted at him. She reached into her car and pulled the plastic statue of Jesus off her dashboard. “You’re just like this plastic statue. You’re both fake and I don’t need either of you.”

She turned and hurled the statue out into the dark outskirts of the parking lot. She gave a last defiant look at Jeremiah, and then sped away in a cloud of dry clay and a spray of gravel.

There was an embarrassed silence for a moment. Henry nodded his head in the direction where the plastic Jesus had disappeared into the dark.

“Well, at least you got fired in good company,” he said.

The man who had said “nigger friend” earlier walked by and slapped Jeremiah Lightcap on the back. “Looks like you don’t have all the answers, Doc,” he said in a taunting tone of voice.

Jeremiah turned on his heel and started walking toward the tent, which was just about empty now.

Inside the tent, the Gospelenes were packing up their music and putting moving pads on the piano. The Reverend Ralph Johnson was giving directions to some young men who were folding up chairs and stacking them in wooden moving crates. Jeremiah Lightcap strode right up to him and squared off, as if he were going to challenge him to a fight.

The Reverend Ralph Johnson looked up and gave a half-smile. “Well, well, Jeremiah, at last you step in from the edge of darkness and into the light.”

“You pulled ‘em in pretty good tonight,” Jeremiah said.

“Yeah,” the preacher said. “Seemed to have gotten one or two of yours in the net as well.”

“One in particular,” Jeremiah said tightly. The one with the nerve disease that’s affecting her legs and is working its way up to her lungs. You put her into a state of euphoric remission and sent her out dancing months off her life expectancy.”

The Reverend Ralph Johnson’s easy demeanor hardened and he took on the same squared-off posture that Jeremiah Lightcap had. “Maddie Flanagan, I know. Fine, she’s dying. We’re all dying. And when it happens, she’s not going to be any the deader for the euphoria I gave her tonight.”

“She’ll be dead sooner though,” Jeremiah said.

“That may be true, but did you make her any more alive than what you saw here tonight? For all your treatment and medicine, were you able to make her better?” He let his questions sink in for a moment. “Just what the hell have you done for her that’s so damn valuable?”

“I deal in truth, not illusions,” Jeremiah said. He was shaken by the question. It hit too close to home, it was too aligned with his own cynicism.

“I saw you got well compensated tonight.” Jeremiah said. He knew it was a weak come-back.

The preacher’s half-smile and easy demeanor came back. “And just when did you quit charging for your services?”

Jeremiah stared back at him for a moment and then the fight visibly went out of him. He slowly turned and started walking away, when he stopped and straightened his sagging posture. He turned. “But I’ll be here tomorrow with these people, and you’ll be gone.”

The Reverend Ralph Johnson watched Doctor Jeremiah Lightcap leave, and his face softened. He had beaten a man better than himself and took no great pleasure in it. He called out after him, too softly for anyone to hear, “I’ll give you an amen on that, brother.”
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Grandmother Tillman had cake and iced tea waiting for Nate and Henry when they got back to her place. They all sat on the porch and Nate told her about the evening. He talked about the people who had been healed or who had sworn off drink or lust. Grandmother Tillman commented how there seemed to be a general air of redemption in Davis Corners, ever since that dreadful statue had been broken. Nate looked at the porch floor uncomfortably.

Henry said, “I think you’re right.”

Grandmother Tillman and Nate both looked at him in shock. He laughed at their expressions.

“I’m merely agreeing that it’s true, I’m not saying I like it. The only thing of any interest left in this town is Miss Edna.”

Grandmother Tillman’s eyebrow went up reproachfully. “I still say there’s a broken heart hiding there.”

“I don’t think so,” Uncle Henry said. “Lord knows I’ve looked hard enough, and there’s not much she hides in that general neighborhood.”

That comment ended the evening with Grandmother Tillman telling her son-in-law Henry he had no sense of decency and shooing him home, but all the time laughing in spite of herself. As Nate watched him and the yellow Caddy disappear into the darkness, he thought nostalgically about their visits to Jim Frank’s place. He thought that except for the beer and cigarettes, tonight’s trip hadn’t been all that different.

Chapter 17

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Copyright (C) 2009 Michael A. Hughes