1949…
The people came…
The people came to the two circus tents in the parking lot.
And they kept coming.
It had been planned to last for three weeks…
but the people kept coming…
so three weeks became eight weeks.
The people came and sat under the “canvas cathedral” on creaking benches and folding chairs, every flavor of humanity, desperate to hear stories of hope…
The smell of sawdust sat heavy on this Fall Southern California night.
An expectant hush spread through the tent as the music faded and the tall, lanky preacher stepped up to the wooden pulpit. He was dressed in a dark suit, and he sported a thick pompadour that framed his strong face.
The people came…
and he looked straight into their souls with lightning intense icy blue eyes.
He waved a leather bound book over his head, he had recently wrestled with this book and its claims. He had come to believe it’s promises.
This night, the people came to believe too.
He spoke in a rich Carolina baritone and the simplicity of his message invited the supernatural…
Ripples of anointing flowed through the crowd like raw electricity…
The sky cracked…
The clouds parted…
And the people came…
As the choir sang, “Just as I am…O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”
The people came.
Los Angeles was used to aftershocks.
But, this shaking would echo throughout eternity.
carbonated joy 