Free Out of the Madness by Jerrold Ladd Page B

and if I accepted Him into my life, I would be saved. I felt
     hurt and wanted this God to help me and my family. When he asked if anyone wanted to try Jesus, through the laughter of spectators,
     I nervously stepped forward. I was led off by a woman.
    This woman, who acted like she had been through this ritual a thousand times, said, “Close your eyes, young man, and repeat
     after me.” She prayed: “Lord, I believe that Jesus died for my sins, and I want to accept Him as my personal savior.” I repeated
     every word. Others who had walked forward with me were being lectured in the background, as I was.
    “Ask the Lord to save you.”
    I said, “Lord, save me.”
    She shouted in my ear, “Save me, Lord.”
    “Save me, Lord,” I said.
    “Ask the Lord to save you.”
    “Save me, Lord.”
    “Now thank Him.”
    “Thank you, Lord.”
    By then she was hyped and spitting in my ear. Some of the group members were making eerie ghost sounds. I opened my eyes and
     saw the fat singer bent forward, arms outstretched, screaming.
    The intensity slowly let up. I was asked my name and told that I was now cleaned and saved. I now needed to come to the church
     to learn and grow. The arrangements were made. I walked back home, telling no one about my new secret.
    The next Sunday I walked to church, without telling anyone where I was going. I had on my usual disgusting clothes. The church
     was fifteen minutes away, behind the redneck store. When I got there, everyone else was just arriving. The lady who had performed
     the ceremonial prayer introduced me on the church porch as Brother Ladd. The church had the same red bricks like the projects,
     but it was trimmed in white and had a small steeple at the top. Since we all were early, we went inside to take our seats
     among the wooden church benches.
    I sat on the very first row and watched about fifty members file into the church. They looked like average project citizens:
     old men, fat gossipy women, children, and young couples. I was really nervous, yet curious to see how things worked in the
     church. Before long, the elders took their seats in the honorable-looking chairs at the front, and the service started. A
     young lady in her twenties stood before a microphone, and several people walked to the three entrances of the church and stood,
     like sentries. The young woman called on people to testify, and they told how God had blessed them with money for things like
     rent, a car part, and food.
    Next, the woman on the tallest chair stepped forward. She was the leader of the church.
    I didn’t pay much attention to the pastor’s message. I was watching the church members. They wailed, jumped, screamed, kicked,
     hollered, and threw their bodies around like they were possessed. They made eerie sounds that reminded me of Mrs. Burnese’s
     spirits. Meanwhile, musicians were banging away on the organ, piano, and drums, enticing the people to jump higher and scream
     louder. It seemed as though the whole church were bouncing: pulpit, benches, and members.
    After they handed around the offering tray two or three times, the service was over. Everyone left full of energy.
    I soon learned how to pray, all about sin, living holy, the end of the world, and the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. I was told
     that God loved me and did not want to see me suffering, hungry, and deprived. Without hesitation, I trusted God. I went to
     the church every time they had service, maybe five or six times a week. Meanwhile, my mother began respecting my religious
     devotion, even though I was just twelve and still figuring out exactly what it was. She encouraged me to keep going to church.
     Word soon spread around my project block that I was saved.
    Around the neighborhood, people were just about equally divided on how they viewed church. The younger generation had little
     interest in the strict, holy lifestyle; they often laughed at any young person claiming to be saved. The older generation,
     on