Faith Wish
Authors: James Bennett
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Faith Wish
James W. Bennett
To the memory of
Robert Bruce Earle,
dearest freind
and soul mate
J.B
.
Contents
March 26
Right after pizza, which was served in the church basement, they went to tabernacle.
It wasn't the youth group from Anne-Marie's church; she was only going for the ride because Brooke Sanchez, her best friend, had invited her.
Anne-Marie couldn't get up much enthusiasm for an evening of hellfire-and-brimstone preaching. For that matter, neither could Brooke. But as Brooke had insisted earlier in the day, it was
strategy
.
As soon as the pizza boxes were disposed of and the tables washed, they piled into three cars. Anne-Marie sat next to Brooke in the backseat of a large Buick, driven by a sponsor whose name was Mrs. Strunk. She'd asked them if they all had money for the collection plate. Anne-Marie only had a twenty-dollar bill; it would be gauche to make change from the collection plate. But it would be just as gauche, or maybe even more so, if you put nothing in.
Whatever enthusiasm Anne-Marie and Brooke lacked for the event was more than made up for by the other passengers. They were already asking who the evangelist was going to be.
“It's Brother Jackson, from Oklahoma,” said Mrs. Strunk.
“Oh, I heard him once in Des Moines,” said Sara Curtis. “He's been baptized in the Spirit; sometimes he even speaks in tongues!”
“Is he going to speak in tongues?” asked Coleen Hoose.
“No one can predict that,” Sara replied. “He can only wait upon the Spirit, like anybody else.”
“Is he like, real spiritual?” asked Coleen.
“He's way spiritual,” Sara confirmed. “Spiritual and bold.”
Anne-Marie looked at the back of their heads. She knew them from school, but not well. Sara and Coleen were both in the National Honor Society, but they were dorks all the same. The two girls were founding members of a Christian Right group that had started a prayer-around-the-flag-pole scene, where everybody held hands in a circle and prayed in the parking lot with their eyes squeezed shut.
The tabernacle grounds were on the other side of the Fox River, by a forest preserve beyond the fairgrounds. The drive would take half an hour, at least.
What am I doing here
? Anne-Marie asked herself.
“I only want to go because Chris Weems goes,” Brooke had confessed immediately after school.
“What difference does it make if I go, then?”
“It's just for support, okay? Aren't we best friends?”
Anne-Marie didn't think Chris Weems was all that cool anyway. “He's a pretty boy who never gets into trouble. That's about it. You can see him at school,” she'd pointed out.
“Yeah, but I think this might be a way to make a good impression,” Brooke had responded. “He's like real religious. And he's more than a pretty boy, Anne-Marie. He's a candidate for valedictorian and he's into the drama club big-time.”
“Oh. Good for him.”
“It's called strategy, Anne-Marie.”
“If what you want is strategy, why don't you join the drama club? You can still try out for the spring one-acts. I hear Chris is even writing one of them.”
“I don't have the time,” Brooke had replied. “I've got cheerleading and orchestra.”
“Why don't you come early in the morning for the prayer circle around the flagpole? You could even hold hands with him.”
“Get real.”
“Why don't you just become a nun? Then he'd
really
be impressed.”
“Shut up. Like I'd be a good fit with nuns.”
Anne-Marie had giggled before saying, “I guess there's no hope, then. You're too sinful for Chris Weems.”
“Oh, and you're Snow White, huh?”
“No, but I'm not pretending to be, just to impress somebody.”
“I still think he could be pretty cool.” Before she had exited the parking lot, Brooke lit up. Then she offered a cigarette to Anne-Marie.
“No thanks.”
“What, are you quitting?”
“I already quit. Two weeks ago. You should, too. You'll never impress people like Chris Weems if you're a smoker.”
“Duh.”
“It shows how evil you are.”
Brooke had laughed before answering. “Well, I'm not going to smoke when I go to their meetings. I'm not stupid, okay?”
The sun was setting by the time Mrs. Strunk eased the Buick into the narrow lane at the entrance to the forest preserve. Already, there were dozens of cars parked on the gravel shoulders. The girls had to walk several hundred yards on an uneven blacktop to get to the tabernacle, which rose in a near valley. The building was large, but didn't look religious. It was nothing more than a large shelter without walls. Steel poles held up its roof.
On the way, Anne-Marie got separated from Brooke, who was staying as close as possible to Chris Weems. There were so many people here. There were black people. There were trailer-trash whitesâmen with beer bellies and Harley belt buckles and muscle shirts and too many tattoos. There were Hispanic men in cowboy hats and boots. In short, not the kind of people who would ever show up in Anne-Marie's own comfy-cozy Presbyterian church.
She found herself being swept along between Sara and Coleen. The surge of people hemmed her in;
I can't stop or turn around
. She shared the alarm of the Canada geese, fleeing and honking as if these holy hordes were unwelcome invaders.
“Are you okay?” Sara asked.
“What?”
“I said, are you okay? You look so pale.”
“I'm a little afraid,” Anne-Marie told her. “Maybe it's the geese.”
Sara was more annoying than Coleen because she always needed to touch. She hooked Anne-Marie's arm and patted her shoulder. “Are you afraid of geese?”
“No, it's just that I'm supposed to write a term paper about them and I know I won't get it done on time.”
“Don't think about school right now,” said Sara. “Think about the Lord and how He might bless you tonight.”
Anne-Marie knew it wasn't the geese anyway, even though she was telling the truth about the term paper. The size of the crowd kept growing as they neared the tabernacle.
I don't have any control here. That's why I'm afraid
. The swollen masses flowed like current, and there was nothing to do but give in to it, just go with the flow. Yet her surrender didn't erase her disorientation. In fact, it brought some panic with it.
Can I be grateful for Sara's arm
!? She gripped it tighter as they moved.
Anne-Marie felt relieved when they reached the shelter; she could lean against one of the poles and take a few deep breaths.
Why am I scared
? Her reaction surprised her.
I've been in crowd flow like this lots of times at concerts and games
.
It was standing room only in the shelter, where the tabernacle service was beginning. There must have been more than 400 people singing a hymn of praise. With robust voices, they split the evening sky like a high school crowd cheering a slam dunk. After a deep breath, Anne-Marie thought:
This is totally trippy, but I've never felt it before. That's why I'm afraid. I don't have an anchor here
.
The shining faces, aglow with joy and passion, didn't look trashy anymore. Some people were waving their arms above their heads. Already unsteady, Anne-Marie stood timidly at the edge of the shelter. Long, crude wooden benches offered the only seating. There were no empty seats nearby.
I'm glad
, she thought.
I need to be on the edge. I need to know I can escape or go my own way if I want
. Sara and she leaned against one of the steel support poles, still holding hands.
I hate holding hands
, she reminded herself.
Especially with touchy-feely people like Sara Curtis
. But at this point in time, at this moment, she needed it.
The noise level was practically deafening, louder and louder with each passing verse of the unfamiliar hymn:
Ride on, ride on, in majesty
!
Hark! all the tribes hosanna cry
,
O Savior meek, pursue Thy road
With palms and scattered garments strowed
!
Ride on, ride on, in majesty
!
The wingèd squadrons of the sky
Look down with sad and wondering eyes
To see the approaching sacrifice
.
There were no musical instruments, not even a piano. The crescendoing, bold singing voices didn't need any. The elevating gusto caught Anne-Marie off guard; with no warning, she felt lifted up to a high place, her fear dissipating. Now she wasn't moving; the current wasn't a river flow, but voltage. The congregation's zeal, the closed eyes in uplifted, shining faces, the arms swaying back and forth, generated electrical current.