I’m here with the others, raising the dead from their graves. We are lying on top of the graves. I am soaking in their spirits. I am becoming anointed.
I’m walking on water with my friends at the lake. I am conjuring matter- a bicycle, a toaster, a spare tire. I never knew I had such powers.
I am slain by the spirit and am laying in the middle of the aisles, convulsing. I ask everyone around me to place their hands on me and speak healing words over my body. They lovingly comply.
I am not taking my medications. I have cancelled my doctor’s appointments. All of them. I am cured.
I am ignoring the yellow button, which summons security, and the red button, which summons local police, and am focusing on the glossolalia around me, orchestral and pretty, a chorus of evidence.
I am breathing in the glory cloud in the crowd while it is streamed live online.
I have hidden away all my books that are not written by the leader. All of my art is now for God and for the group. I support the group in buying out the city’s only public art venue, where I once performed, in another life.
With others, I confront the vulnerable in public space and ask them if they know Jesus. If they try to leave, we pray harder. We lay our hands on them non-consensually. When they threaten to call the police, we do not back down. We do not obey man’s laws.
I am basking in the beauty and glory of revival. It is beautiful here. I am always happy, singing hymns to myself.
Every good thing that happens in this place is because of the work of the group and of God. Every bad thing that happens is directly attributable to the devil. I am aware of the evil forces in this town. I will not speak to the persons I know the devil works through. They are legion.
I am predicting the future, speaking words of prophesy over anyone who will listen, exercising my latest spiritual gift. The future is full of light and hope, I tell everyone. It will be spectacular. God has a plan.