earthmann

They rode the Holy Roller coaster with the best of them. It's a wild ride. For those of unfamiliar with the Pentecostal arena let me explain. It begins as a crisis moment when you feel utter joy, a feeling so high, of such elation, you would think the creator of the universe is giving your soul a bear hug.

As the intensity of the moment begins to fade in time, you must struggle to maintain the zeal, even while it dwindles into a mild contentment. If you lived in a vacuum, apart from the effects of time, insulated from the tapping hammer of reality, if you could remain beneath the juniper tree, locked inside the cloister, kneeling on the mat, praying to the east, you might be just fine.

Sure at first you approach the world with a zeal and boldness. But eventually, you must return to Monday morning, and there you we are forced to break the gaze, awake from the moment, and the hypnotist returns to his day job as you are left with the residue of bliss, which is not necessary a bad thing, but against the church's weight of personal guilt and eternal fear, it is not quite sufficient.

One reads the bible in the morning; one prays to start the day. Makes a conscious effort to watch one's thoughts, to watch less TV, devote more time and money to the church. But gas for the engine is always burning. Therefore, like a vampire craving virgin blood, the Pentecostal returns to the sacrificial altar to plead the blood of Mary’s son, like a junkie craving the New Wine. A fix to get you by until the next Sunday.

Sometimes these fixes are elusive. These are called ''dry spells". They are cured by what some country preachers refer to as ''gully washers."