My church roots began at a small holiness church in Harlem, New York. That little church was on fire for God. I can recall our services often being visited by drunks and prostitutes that would be drawn in by our Blues Brothers style of church music that permeated into the streets. You would have to have seen the original movie to understand. We couldn't just confess Christ with our mouths and believe in Him in our hearts (Romans 10:9-10), we had to “tarry” for the Holy Ghost and speak in an unknown tongue as evidence of our salvation. Tarrying, was the process of calling on the name of Jesus fervently and repetitiously. Usually, one of the more seasoned saints would encourage you along by shouting “Call on Him like you mean it!.... Save me Lord!.......I wanna be saved!.......Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus……….. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus."

As we cried out and repeated after them......, spit, snot and tears would run down our faces as a symbol of us being purged of our sins. They kept plenty of paper towels and buckets around, especially when it was my turn. Say what you want, but that’s how I got saved. We didn’t believe in smoking, drinking wine (not even grape juice), eating pork, playing cards, or women wearing pants or make-up.

Featured Posts
Recent Posts
Search By Tags
Follow Us
  • Facebook Classic
  • Twitter Classic
  • Google Classic