William
He stood there before the small crowd and I thought he resembled a football player. Maybe he would talk about steroids in sports. Maybe he would argue and defend the constant ass-slapping and pawing of the other men on the field to those whose only qualm with the sport were the occasional homosexualesque gestures from other players. Maybe he would talk about how he made 300 million fucking dollars by the time he was 25 and that the rest of us were completely inferior.
He didn't talk about any of that.
He spoke about God.
It became very clear to me over the course of the one hour that he spoke that he was way beyond the prayer before the game, or the thanks he gave to the Lord when his team won the Super Bowl. This man ate, drank, peed, pooped, laughed, and cried all things Jesus.
An excerpt:
"I recall being in high school and being an extremely popular student! I had a million friends, and almost that many girlfriends!
(crowd laughs)
I was partying every night, neglecting my school work, and relying strictly on my charm and movie-star looks to get me the grades I needed to make it to college. And it wasn't until that rainy Friday night, two weeks shy of graduation, that I realized I wasn't even alive.
(scattered "amens!" and sporadic hand-clapping)
I was drunk that night, maybe even high on cocaine, and I was driving home from the game when I took a sharp turn way too fast. My car rolled over, shattering the windows, and it landed in a ditch far from the view of the road. I knew I would die there. I was banged up, and there was a huge gash across my stomach. I saw my insides falling out. I didn't know what else to do, so I prayed. I told God that if he would heal me, and let me live, I would spend the rest of my life doing everything I could to help myself and my fellow man become better Christians. And folks, ya know what he did? He healed me!
(huge applause)
Why my insides just kinda rolled back up into my belly, and the cut healed so well that less than five minutes later you couldn't even see a scratch! He gave me the strength to crawl from my vehicle and walk the 28 miles to a phone! My brothers and sisters, if that ain't God directly answering a prayer, well then I don't know what is!
(more applause, more clapping, screams of joy)
I realized when he left the stage that I couldn't remember the last time I had blinked. My eyes were dry and burning and I closed them. When I opened them back up some two hours later, it was six a.m. and the next infomercial was selling kitchen knives that could cut through phone books.
I was scared and drank beer in the bathtub until the world seemed okay again.
He stood there before the small crowd and I thought he resembled a football player. Maybe he would talk about steroids in sports. Maybe he would argue and defend the constant ass-slapping and pawing of the other men on the field to those whose only qualm with the sport were the occasional homosexualesque gestures from other players. Maybe he would talk about how he made 300 million fucking dollars by the time he was 25 and that the rest of us were completely inferior.
He didn't talk about any of that.
He spoke about God.
It became very clear to me over the course of the one hour that he spoke that he was way beyond the prayer before the game, or the thanks he gave to the Lord when his team won the Super Bowl. This man ate, drank, peed, pooped, laughed, and cried all things Jesus.
An excerpt:
"I recall being in high school and being an extremely popular student! I had a million friends, and almost that many girlfriends!
(crowd laughs)
I was partying every night, neglecting my school work, and relying strictly on my charm and movie-star looks to get me the grades I needed to make it to college. And it wasn't until that rainy Friday night, two weeks shy of graduation, that I realized I wasn't even alive.
(scattered "amens!" and sporadic hand-clapping)
I was drunk that night, maybe even high on cocaine, and I was driving home from the game when I took a sharp turn way too fast. My car rolled over, shattering the windows, and it landed in a ditch far from the view of the road. I knew I would die there. I was banged up, and there was a huge gash across my stomach. I saw my insides falling out. I didn't know what else to do, so I prayed. I told God that if he would heal me, and let me live, I would spend the rest of my life doing everything I could to help myself and my fellow man become better Christians. And folks, ya know what he did? He healed me!
(huge applause)
Why my insides just kinda rolled back up into my belly, and the cut healed so well that less than five minutes later you couldn't even see a scratch! He gave me the strength to crawl from my vehicle and walk the 28 miles to a phone! My brothers and sisters, if that ain't God directly answering a prayer, well then I don't know what is!
(more applause, more clapping, screams of joy)
I realized when he left the stage that I couldn't remember the last time I had blinked. My eyes were dry and burning and I closed them. When I opened them back up some two hours later, it was six a.m. and the next infomercial was selling kitchen knives that could cut through phone books.
I was scared and drank beer in the bathtub until the world seemed okay again.
VIEW 21 of 21 COMMENTS
eric would hate on me so bad.
-TM
[Edited on May 24, 2006 3:15AM]