May 23, 2010

When I wanted Pentecost

I cried when I tried to receive the spirit. But nothing happened. The brothers came and shouted, Je-ZUSS!, and they prayed for me with heavy hands. They shouted up to God the Son and said stern words to me. There was popcorn on the counter in the kitchen. Chips in bowls. Chips in bags. Salsa.

The floor where the prayer meeting was was brown and beige, geometric. The light above left lines of yellowed white on the floor intersecting the flooring patterns, although the lines kept moving and moved when I moved, with me, because of me and where I was, the intersections shifting. God keeps his promises. He does not lie, they said.

They said to me and again to God above us.

If you ask, they said, we know He's faithful. I rocked my body and prayed and rocked. Please and Lord, and Lord Lordlord. Somewhere in the back my father prayed. He had a language no one knew. I prayed and cried and tried until I shook, and the Lord's out la la . The brothers conferred to say and decide -- was this a stammer or the spirit come?

I tried to read their mouths as they moved, but only saw hands on heavy beards.