The preacher man kept his gaze on the boards between his feet. His black hair dangled over his forehead and his long fingers tapped the brown leather cover of the Bible on the lectern. There was a slight breeze flowing through the beaten canvas tent, but it wasn’t enough to fend off the heat of the August day. He shook his head and then looked out over the crowd of dirty congregates gathered to hear him speak.
“You people. You people think this is the worst he can do?”
He raised his hand off the old book and pointed to the canvas ceiling that hung low between metal poles on either side of the makeshift stage. There was a rip in the canvas and sunlight poured in and shone a beam onto his dirty shoes.
“You goin’ hungry, huh? You ain’t got nothin’ to eat? Your babies ain’t got no milk? Let me tell you something, church. You gon’ be beggin' for that once he calls down his retribution. You will wish that’s all you had to worry ‘bout.”
The gray and brown mass bowed their heads as he looked out over them. His voice began to rise over each soul in attendance.
“Genesis tells us the a’count of Sodom and Gomorrah. God told Abraham that he would judge the cities and destroy the wickedness that was bred there. Abraham pled with God to show mercy on the righteous, but there were no righteous to be found. So the angels said in verse thirteen of chapter nineteen, ‘Up, get you out of this place; because the cry of them is waxen great before the face of the Lord; and the Lord hath sent us to destroy it in fire.’”
He bobbed up and down on his heels and held out his arms, palms lifted to the sky. He began to speak even louder over the crowd.
“You ain’t got no food, huh? Hah. No food, you say. No job? No prospects? You won’t have no soul! Brothers and sisters, your very flesh will be burned and melted away like the ocean tide falling from the shore!”
A few brave moans began to pierce the silence from the crowd.
“You ain’t gon’ be nothin’ but a pile of scorched bone and teeth, and your talkin’ to me ‘bout food? You will be food! Your bodies will be doused in fire and the sweet smell of your charred flesh will draw the beasts of the field from miles around!”
Prayers leeched out from the crowd and were fighting his voice for supremacy. Motherly hands clutched at breast and waved at the sky and shook thy neighbor and wiped their tears. The preacher man was calling out to the heavens as the slice of light coming from the hole in the canvas turned dark and thunder began to roll in the distance. He had to strain his voice to be heard now.
“If you do not repent of your evil ways, we will not be here come tomorrow!”
Sweat was pouring from his sunken face and he wiped his black mustache with a handkerchief from his back pocket. He kept it tight in his grip and held it high.
“If you do not receive Jesus Christ as your Holy God and Savior to-day, you will burn here on earth, and you will burn for eternity in the devil’s hell!”
The thunder growled above them and flashes of light began to cast shadows on the canvas walls.
“If you allow the evils of this world to become the WAY of the world, by God Almighty we will be banished from this place and out into the fiery pits of hell. And let me tell you something right now, brothers and sisters, I WILL NOT GO!”
Lightning crashed and sheets of rain began to pour down onto the canvas roof like the applause of a thousand men. The rip above the preacher poured water like a stuck pig down onto the stage. He moved to it and dunked his head under the cold water, tossing back his slick black hair and running his hands through it and then looked out at the congregation with outstretched wet hands.
“You see here? Do you see? Are you washed in the blood of the lamb, church?”
The congregation began pushing and shoving and screaming their way up the muddy aisle as the preacher man took a step back from the waterfall. He slapped at it and splashes of water hit the crowd and they yearned after it. A young redheaded man in tears was pushed up onto the stage. He took off his tattered hat and twisted it in his hands.
The preacher man held his palm up to the crowd and they quieted. His shoes clapped the wooden slats as he walked over. He wrapped his bony fingers around the young man’s shoulder and leaned in.
“What is your name, son?”
“Ch-Charles” he said.
“Charles. Good man. Charles, I’m glad you’re here today.” He looked out over the crowd and said, “I’m glad you’re all here today, but I’m especially glad that young Charles is here.”
He smiled at the young man and tilted his head to the side as if to see every angle of him, as if to paint him from memory.
“Charles, are you a man of God? Are you saved, Charles?”
“No, sir.”
“I didn’t think so. But you want to be, is that right?”
“Yessir.”
“No, no. No, Charles. You don’t want to be. You think you want to be, but you don’t want to be, do you?”
“I really do, sir. I—
“Charles, I’ve seen young men like you. I’ve seen you in the beer halls and the taverns and the whore houses and the gambling joints and the flop houses. Laid up come mornin’ in the alley ways, drunk and dead to the world with nothing or no one but pigs to mourn you.”
He shook his head at Charles and his grip tightened and his smile widened.
“No, no, Charles. You don’t want to be saved.”
“But I do, sir. I want to be saved by the blood, just like you said. To make me clean.”
The preacher man took his hand off the young man’s shoulder and turned his back and chuckled as he walked to the other side of the stage.
“You want to be saved. You want to be saved.”
“Yessir.”
He turned back to the young man and the corners of his lips fell and curled downward.
“Let me tell you something boy, you don’t want to be saved.” His face was flush and shaking as he ran back across the stage to him. “It ain’t about what you want, boy! You NEED to be saved.” Your soul NEEDS the Lord!”
“Yes. Yes, I need to be saved.”
The preacher bent down at the waist and spoke quietly.
“I can’t hear you Charles.”
“I need to be saved.”
“Come now, Charles.”
“I NEED to be saved!”
“Boy, if there ever was a time, the time is now! Let God and every last soul here today hear you bear witness to what the price is of your eternal salvation. Let me hear you now, Charles!”
“I NEED TO BE SA VED!”
“Lay it all at the altar of the Lord, Charles!”
“I NEED TO BE SA VED BY THE BLOOD!”
The preacher took a handful of his red hair and jerked him up on his feet and paraded him on the stage for all to see.
“You see here? You see this boy? God’s most precious gift. Persuaded and degraded by the evils of this world. The world! Not by God, no. The world! But oh yes, there is power in the blood, and he can be clean again. You can be clean again, can’t you boy?”
“Yessir!”
“He can be clean again, can’t he church?”
A resounding yes came from the congregation. The boy shook his head up and down and sighed through tears.
“I baptize you now in the name of the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit!”
A wave of amens came from the crowd as the preacher took the boy by the hair and stuck his face under the waterfall and he panted and flailed his arms as he tried to escape the clutch of the preacher man and the rush of water pushing into his nose and throat.
“You see? You see, church? Look at him fight. That’s the devil tryin’ to keep a’holt of him. This here is Holy water! Water passed down from the heavens right through our church tent and down into the soul of this boy!”
They all shouted prayers as he fought the preacher man. His legs began to shake and his hands were dangling like two sacks of flour on sticks. A young mother bent and clutched her child to her breast.
“Devil, I demand that you leave this boy now. By God’s almighty grace and love, you have no place here! This boy has been saved by God and has been saved for GOOD! Get out! Get out! GET! OUT!”
He shoved him forward and the boy landed on his knees and his head bounced off the stage. He vomited water as the crowd surrounded him and pressed their palms all over his body and rejoiced as one mass of tearful flesh.
The preacher man hopped off the back of the stage. He opened the back flap of the tent and hung it on a pole that stuck in the wet ground. He stood under it and ran a hand through his damp hair and pushed it out of his face. He reached into the front pocket of his yellowed shirt and pulled a pack from it. He snapped a match off his heel and inhaled the cigarette that dangled below his black mustache as the sounds of salvation filled him.