Jimmy Swaggart's Got A Hold On Me.

I dusted this one off from a past post....

I couldn't sleep past 4 am this morning, thus Sunday came early for me. I got up and decided to start the day. I wish I could say that I set down to write, that my muses were what nudged my nose out from under the covers. But no, not so. I'm not even sure if my muses are speaking to me anymore.

On weekends, when most of us get a break from the pursuit of capitalistic gain, I am at a loss as to what to do with myself in the wee morning hours when other mortals are still blinking with REM. Even the dog won't do more than lift one ear on an early weekend morning. How does he know it's the weekend?

I wandered upstairs, eggs and diet coke in hand, turned on the TV, and logged onto the computer. You never know where inspiration will come from. Certainly not from the treadmill standing and staring at me from across the bonus room. I turn my back on it.

Have you ever seen Jimmy Swaggart on a big screen? Did you even know that he was still around? I didn't. But there he was, still sitting at his piano, softly singing about the loneliness of sin. He is completely white headed now. I couldn't believe my eyes, or my ears, he can actually sing. There was no strutting around on the stage, no pounding the Bible with his hand. Just a white headed man with tan make-up, and face full of serenity, or Botox.

I could not make myself switch channels, mesmerized as I was by this fallen from Grace, and Evangelical TV, storm preacher.

Jimmy Swaggart, just the informal-ness of his name, Jimmy, not Jim, not Mr. Swaggart, makes him seem like a good 'ol boy. Barefoot and ploughing the field one day, called to sing and save the next. And that last name, Swaggart? If that doesn't conjure up images of Cadillacs in trailer parks, you ain't from the South.

The last I time I saw Jimmy he was crying for forgiveness. Literally bawling like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar; and the cookie, one bite missing.

Apparently all is forgiven, and has been for awhile, what do I know? I sort of fell from Evangelical TV myself. After PaPa died, there was no one else I visited that watched it.

Seeing him sitting there at his piano, after all these years, crooning "take my hand, Lord" (keep it out of the cookie jar?) was not the biggest surprise. A surprise that would eclipse the fact that I kept on watching Jimmy. And why did I keep watching this now soft spoken man, who had at last learned to control his facial features?

To my astonishment I realized that Jimmy Swaggart had a hold on me! His face was so earnest, his voice almost velvety. He was looking directly at me. "You don't have to be lonely, you don't. Not if you don't want to be. Not of you don't want to be, you don't." My eyes were glassing over, I could tell. I even forgot about the treadmill rolling its eyes at me. "You don't have to live a life of sin, you don't. You don't." He was slowly, sadly, shaking his head. Wait! Look around you, Jimmy, just about everything in today's society will put you in a Cadillac to Hell!

"Listen now, this is important."

What? Did he hear me? Had I talked out loud? I had to shake my head. It can be a bit eerie to watch Jimmy in the wee hours of the morning.

I came to understand that "listen now..." was his way of driving home a point he was about to make. Sort of his way of breaking the spell, or lull. Whew, I have to admit I was a little relieved.

But the big surprise, the moment that would shock the devil right out of me, which is the point, I suppose, was the next scene. There was Jimmy Swaggart standing in front of a huge color coded map of the Middle East. Not just standing there, as if the map were a nice, if confusing backdrop, sort of like Cadillacs in trailer parks, but holding a pointer in his hand. Jimmy Swaggart college professor? Where was the piano? The choir? Had he moved the show to Oral Roberts U when I wasn't looking?

With that soft voice, that now calmer face, he pointed to the map. His pointer hit on the area, color coded, that would doom us all to death. He was certain of it, serenely so.

He held in his hands a book. Listen now, because this is important. A book that would explain it all. It was a Bible of course. But not just any Bible. This Bible translated the old text using more modern terms typed in RED. Bold type too! For $75 dollars you too could have this book. There was even an 800 number to call and order it. Isn't that just like a good 'ol boy to think of providing a toll free number?

I must have fainted, or blinked, because the next thing I know the piano is back, and the map is gone.

Wait, Jimmy! What was that 800 number?