Overwhelmed by the Spirit

Since I haven’t written in awhile and what I have to say is long and covers pretty unrelated topics, I am splitting today’s into two. This first one tells a story (at times…er…embellished appropriately) of an experience I had a couple of weeks ago:

Two Sundays ago I decided to go to church with my host mom. We had had a real heart to heart in the morning, I had lost my phone at this point so I couldn’t contact anyone as to where exactly the church I planned on going to was, and it seemed like it could be a great cultural experience. It was.

She warned me ahead of time that it was Pentecostal church and not her normal church. It’s her husband’s church but she’s been having issues at hers so we decided to try it out. She knew that we were in for quite the experience. The service lasted for 13 hours (embellishment-it was probably like 3 hours, which in retrospect is not as long as it could’ve been). We walked in and we were the only women there wearing pants instead of a dress or skirt. Oh the scandal that we must have brought to the church. I felt instant shame. The women were on one side and the men on the other side. If this wasn’t going to be a bonding experience with Minerva I don’t know what would be…

 The church building was the size of a large bedroom or a small classroom. Nonetheless, the members had evidently invested in or stumbled upon three speakers, all roughly the size of a small skyscraper (embellishment). What’s more, they were so incredibly invested in the gospel that they shouted it into this little microphone that carried a great deal of sound through the towering speakers right to the pulse in my eardrum. It made women fall to the ground and weep for Jesus and children fall to the ground screaming and covering their ears (embellishment-the women part, not the children part). I kind of wanted to be a child at this point. It terrified me to, kiddo, me too.

 At the end the preacher called out the newbies to bless them and pray over them. It mattered not that Minerva and I were already Christians. We, too, had to be saved and fully accept the presence of God that we had not accepted previously. A woman put one hand over my my breast and the other on one side of my face as her cheek touched mine and prayed very passionately over my heart. I didn’t speak in tongues or feel any different…besides the discomfort that this white girl felt from the proximity to another unknown person that I was experiencing at the moment. Plus she was talking so darn fast and it was so loud around us and I caught only like three quarters of what she was even saying anyway. The breath of fresh air that I took when we finally made it out of that building was extravagant and the wordless look exchanged between my host mother of two days and me priceless. I have never had a dull experience at a Pentecostal church and I must say that I do really admire the truth that they spoke and the fervor with which they followed the Lord. But I can say that rarely has fresh air felt so sweet.