I was saved from sin when I was going on thirteen. But not really saved. It happened like this. There was a big revival at my Auntie Reed\u2019s church. Every night for weeks there had been much preaching, singing, praying, and shouting, and some very hardened sinners had been brought to Christ, and the membership of the church had grown by leaps and bounds. Then just before the revival ended, they held a special meeting for children, \u201cto bring the young lambs to the fold.\u201d My aunt spoke of it for days ahead. That night I was escorted to the front row and placed on the mourners\u2019 bench with all the other young sinners, who had not yet been brought to Jesus.<\/p>\r\n
My aunt told me that when you were saved you saw a light, and something happened to you inside! And Jesus came into your life! And God was with you from then on! She said you could see and hear and feel Jesus in your soul. I believed her. I had heard a great many old people say the same thing and it seemed to me they ought to know. So I sat there calmly in the hot, crowded church, waiting for Jesus to come to me.<\/p>\r\n
The preacher preached a wonderful rhythmical sermon, all moans and shouts and lonely cries and dire pictures of hell, and then he sang a song about the ninety and nine safe in the fold, but one little lamb was left out in the cold. Then he said: \u201cWon\u2019t you come? Won\u2019t you come to Jesus? Young lambs, won\u2019t you come?\u201d And he held out his arms to all us young sinners there on the mourners\u2019 bench. And the little girls cried. And some of them jumped up and went to Jesus right away. But most of us just sat there.<\/p>\r\n
A great many old people came and knelt around us and prayed, old women with jet-black faces and braided hair, old men with work-gnarled hands. And the church sang a song about the lower lights are burning, some poor sinners to be saved. And the whole building rocked with prayer and song.<\/p>\r\n
Still I kept waiting to see<\/span> Jesus.<\/p>\r\n Finally all the young people had gone to the altar and were saved, but one boy and me. He was a rounder\u2019s son named Westley. Westley and I were surrounded by sisters and deacons praying. It was very hot in the church, and getting late now. Finally Westley said to me in a whisper: \u201cGod damn! I\u2019m tired o\u2019 sitting here. Let\u2019s get up and be saved.\u201d So he got up and was saved.<\/p>\r\n Then I was left all alone on the mourners\u2019 bench. My aunt came and knelt at my knees and cried, while prayers and songs swirled all around me in the little church. The whole congregation prayed for me alone, in a mighty wail of moans and voices. And I kept waiting serenely for Jesus, waiting, waiting\u2014but he didn\u2019t come. I wanted to see him, but nothing happened to me. Nothing! I wanted something to happen to me, but nothing happened.<\/p>\r\n I heard the songs and the minister saying: \u201cWhy don\u2019t you come? My dear child, why don\u2019t you come to Jesus? Jesus is waiting for you. He wants you. Why don\u2019t you come? Sister Reed, what is this child\u2019s name?\u201d<\/p>\r\n \u201cLangston,\u201d my aunt sobbed.<\/p>\r\n \u201cLangston, why don\u2019t you come? Why don\u2019t you come and be saved? Oh, Lamb of God! Why don\u2019t you come?\u201d<\/p>\r\n Now it was really getting late. I began to be ashamed of myself, holding everything up so long. I began to wonder what God thought about Westley, who certainly hadn\u2019t seen Jesus either, but who was now sitting proudly on the platform, swinging his knickerbockered legs and grinning down at me, surrounded by deacons and old women on their knees praying. God had not struck Westley dead for taking his name in vain or for lying in the temple. So I decided that maybe to save further trouble, I\u2019d better lie, too, and say that Jesus had come, and get up and be saved.<\/p>\r\n So I got up.<\/p>\r\n Suddenly the whole room broke into a sea of shouting, as they saw me rise. Waves of rejoicing swept the place. Women leaped in the air. My aunt threw her arms around me. The minister took me by the hand and led me to the platform.<\/p>\r\n When things quieted down, in a hushed silence, punctuated by a few ecstatic \u201cAmens,\u201d all the new young lambs were blessed in the name of God. Then joyous singing filled the room.<\/p>\r\n That night, for the last time in my life but one\u2014for I was a big boy twelve years old\u2014I cried. I cried, in bed alone, and couldn\u2019t stop. I buried my head under the quilts, but my aunt heard me. She woke up and told my uncle I was crying because the Holy Ghost had come into my life, and because I had seen Jesus. But I was really crying because I couldn\u2019t bear to tell her that I had lied, that I had deceived everybody in the church, that I hadn\u2019t seen Jesus, and that now I didn\u2019t believe there was a Jesus any more, since he didn\u2019t come to help me.<\/p>","rendered":" I was saved from sin when I was going on thirteen. But not really saved. It happened like this. There was a big revival at my Auntie Reed\u2019s church. Every night for weeks there had been much preaching, singing, praying, and shouting, and some very hardened sinners had been brought to Christ, and the membership of the church had grown by leaps and bounds. Then just before the revival ended, they held a special meeting for children, \u201cto bring the young lambs to the fold.\u201d My aunt spoke of it for days ahead. That night I was escorted to the front row and placed on the mourners\u2019 bench with all the other young sinners, who had not yet been brought to Jesus.<\/p>\n My aunt told me that when you were saved you saw a light, and something happened to you inside! And Jesus came into your life! And God was with you from then on! She said you could see and hear and feel Jesus in your soul. I believed her. I had heard a great many old people say the same thing and it seemed to me they ought to know. So I sat there calmly in the hot, crowded church, waiting for Jesus to come to me.<\/p>\n The preacher preached a wonderful rhythmical sermon, all moans and shouts and lonely cries and dire pictures of hell, and then he sang a song about the ninety and nine safe in the fold, but one little lamb was left out in the cold. Then he said: \u201cWon\u2019t you come? Won\u2019t you come to Jesus? Young lambs, won\u2019t you come?\u201d And he held out his arms to all us young sinners there on the mourners\u2019 bench. And the little girls cried. And some of them jumped up and went to Jesus right away. But most of us just sat there.<\/p>\n A great many old people came and knelt around us and prayed, old women with jet-black faces and braided hair, old men with work-gnarled hands. And the church sang a song about the lower lights are burning, some poor sinners to be saved. And the whole building rocked with prayer and song.<\/p>\n Still I kept waiting to see<\/span> Jesus.<\/p>\n Finally all the young people had gone to the altar and were saved, but one boy and me. He was a rounder\u2019s son named Westley. Westley and I were surrounded by sisters and deacons praying. It was very hot in the church, and getting late now. Finally Westley said to me in a whisper: \u201cGod damn! I\u2019m tired o\u2019 sitting here. Let\u2019s get up and be saved.\u201d So he got up and was saved.<\/p>\n Then I was left all alone on the mourners\u2019 bench. My aunt came and knelt at my knees and cried, while prayers and songs swirled all around me in the little church. The whole congregation prayed for me alone, in a mighty wail of moans and voices. And I kept waiting serenely for Jesus, waiting, waiting\u2014but he didn\u2019t come. I wanted to see him, but nothing happened to me. Nothing! I wanted something to happen to me, but nothing happened.<\/p>\n I heard the songs and the minister saying: \u201cWhy don\u2019t you come? My dear child, why don\u2019t you come to Jesus? Jesus is waiting for you. He wants you. Why don\u2019t you come? Sister Reed, what is this child\u2019s name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLangston,\u201d my aunt sobbed.<\/p>\n \u201cLangston, why don\u2019t you come? Why don\u2019t you come and be saved? Oh, Lamb of God! Why don\u2019t you come?\u201d<\/p>\n Now it was really getting late. I began to be ashamed of myself, holding everything up so long. I began to wonder what God thought about Westley, who certainly hadn\u2019t seen Jesus either, but who was now sitting proudly on the platform, swinging his knickerbockered legs and grinning down at me, surrounded by deacons and old women on their knees praying. God had not struck Westley dead for taking his name in vain or for lying in the temple. So I decided that maybe to save further trouble, I\u2019d better lie, too, and say that Jesus had come, and get up and be saved.<\/p>\n So I got up.<\/p>\n Suddenly the whole room broke into a sea of shouting, as they saw me rise. Waves of rejoicing swept the place. Women leaped in the air. My aunt threw her arms around me. The minister took me by the hand and led me to the platform.<\/p>\n When things quieted down, in a hushed silence, punctuated by a few ecstatic \u201cAmens,\u201d all the new young lambs were blessed in the name of God. Then joyous singing filled the room.<\/p>\n That night, for the last time in my life but one\u2014for I was a big boy twelve years old\u2014I cried. I cried, in bed alone, and couldn\u2019t stop. I buried my head under the quilts, but my aunt heard me. She woke up and told my uncle I was crying because the Holy Ghost had come into my life, and because I had seen Jesus. But I was really crying because I couldn\u2019t bear to tell her that I had lied, that I had deceived everybody in the church, that I hadn\u2019t seen Jesus, and that now I didn\u2019t believe there was a Jesus any more, since he didn\u2019t come to help me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":3,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[49],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-108","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/108","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/299"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/108\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":109,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/108\/revisions\/109"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/108\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=108"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=108"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=108"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=108"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}