Timing

The right proper and very reserved Presbyterian Church across the street advertised a revival last week. I haven't been to a revival since I was thirteen and went with some Southern Baptist friends to an old-fashioned foot-stompin,' kiddie-pool dunkin,' Holy Ghost gathering under a big, blue-striped circus tent in a vacant lot where we all got free fans from a local funeral home sponsor. From a religiously conservative family, I was totally amazed when so many in the congregation became possessed by the spirit, suffering spasms and twitches and talking in tongues. Lawty Mercy! It was a sight, just like you see in the movies!

I had high hopes when I read about the Presby Revival but it was apparently somewhat more subdued, being held inside the picturesque 1890's Eastlake style church, during the middle of a quiet week in November. A banner outside promoted harmonious singing and spiritual restoration Monday through Thursday nights but I never heard even a hint of enraptured commotion nor saw more than 6 cars.

I think their timing was bad. Revivals are usually held in the summertime and end on a Saturday night, I think because it keeps people out of the bars. Anyway, I was out taking pictures of the beautiful stained glass windows during prime revival time and I only heard a single sweet soprano voice singing a hymn... no clapping, no foot stomping, no affirmative amens, no joyous halleluiahs. What a let-down, but at least the lights inside made the windows glow four nights in a row. If that was my church, I'd set a timer that turns the lights on every single night.

I can see four churches from my house. This is the view of the Presbyterian windows from my yard.



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