The Pentecostals helped me rethink the importance of prayer.
Searching for the Big G isn't for the faint of heart. You walk into places where your only protection is your preconceived notions, the very notions from which a faith or path of enlightenment seeks to unburden you. Searching out a spiritual path is fraught with missteps and danger. Expressing the wrong sentiments can lead to questions.
Most particularly, 'What brought you here?"
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
I realize now I should have just stood there, stoically as the swarm of bees buzzed around my head and used my arms as a landing strip. I suppose my jumping, running and yelling outside the meditation room was viewed as really poor protocol even for a newcomer at Karma Thegsum Choling of Tampa Bay.
A private residence in Carrollwood serves as a frequent meeting place for Karma Thegsum Choling, a Tibetan-based Buddhism. It seemed like a possible path for me. It was the only answer I had for the gentleman who kept asking me why I was there. Having missed the early meditation for newcomers, I sat on the dock behind the house. It was beautiful there. Fish were eating each other. Ducks were fighting. The thunderclouds were rolling over the sun, rendering the sky a threatening gray. All in all, it was an 'all is suffering" sort of day.
A kind, witty woman admonished me not to make fun of the ducks, adding that I might be reincarnated as one in my next life. I am not ready to believe in reincarnation unless it applies to the rebirth of the engine in my 1986 Dodge Ram. My new Buddhist muse was a former Catholic who had been brought to Buddhism by her son. If I ever go back to Buddha, it will be because of her lightness of being.
When I left, I avoided the man who wanted to know why I had come. I felt the why was something for my own soul to wrestle with.
And wrestle it did.
Grappling with the Devil
The Lighthouse Baptist Church in Pinellas Park was hosting the Christian Wrestling Federation (CWF) for a night of God-infused chokeholds. The wrestling ring was right next to Park Avenue.
CWF of Florida puts on shows with titles such as 'Thou Shalt Not" and 'Revenge is Mine." Its mission is to reach the 'lost and backslidden." Unfortunately, the lost don't come tagged and ready to be assimilated, but it looked like the CWF had reached some pretty excited kids. As Rastaman reggaed into the ring, it was clear, too, it had provided a unique opportunity for parents to talk to their kids about such topics as bullying, stealing and a general failure to be humble.
The preacher of the Lighthouse Baptist Church welcomed me warmly to the event. The simplicity of the sanctuary centered on a plain wooden cross as a focal point. Watching the parents as excited as their kids about the spectacle, I was swept up in the warm syrup of familial love. I felt a sticky tug of longing.
There was one nagging oddity. Wrestler Pat McGroin sported a black velvet appliqued hand over his own McGroin. I'm not sure what made it fit the CWF's mission. Maybe it was the wedding ring on the hand's finger.
Oh Lord, Wontcha Buy Me a Giant TV
While the Lighthouse Baptist Church was perfectly happy having a wrestling ring in front of its church with a parking lot of families screaming at a common foe, The River of the Revival Ministries International in Mango wanted something else in front of their church.
A Jumbotron. A $50,000 Jumbotron; a big video screen like the one in Times Square.
After parking my truck in Azerbaijan (The River used to be an AutoNation dealership), I ordered a meat pie from a South African vendor (from the real South Africa, not an old AutoNation parking lot marker).
A man paid for my food and then sped off to the auditorium, saying only, 'No one gives more than God."
The auditorium wasn't packed for the Friday night revival, but the ushers made sure it appeared full for the cameras. A table stacked with letters from around the world about healing and salvation filled the central dais where used car salesmen once hustled.
For a few moments, I felt the joy. Maybe even the Big G. Away from people who knew me, away from expectations of dignity, I began to think I could clap, sing and really get into this exuberant and — dare I say it? — contemporary worship scene. A leather-clad biker was even dancing in the aisles in his vest that read 'Lord of Lords, King of Kings." Unlike the men I had dated, he didn't mean himself.
