I loved the Bible stories I was reading, but I didn’t like this room where people were falling out, catching the Holy Ghost, slobbering all over the place. That happened in a lot of black churches, and I could immediately see it was phony. The screaming and moaning just didn’t feel right. The spirit of God sounded beautiful to me, but I quickly separated the experience of God from church. I just couldn’t see God in the fake-ass preachers or people wallowing on the ground. But I could see him in Hollis, my first real teacher.
