Well, I've never really shared this before, but perhaps some of you know I spend Friday nights in various parts of the city trying to bring souls to Jesus. My friends Bobby Joe and Chrisdene usually join me, and sometimes Bobby Joe's little brother Wayne Wayne comes along. We find a busy street corner where we can bring Jesus' word to a whole lot of people, and we stand there most of the night, reading from the Bible, singing songs, and doing whatever we can to bring religion to heathen folk.

Anyway, this week we decided to go to Harlem. Though some African Americans try to be religious, that diabolical Satan keeps diverting them from God's path towards sex and drugs and the Baptist church. We stood on 125th Street and played the guitar and sang together and worshiped the Lord.

We sang "Amazing Grace", and then "Nothing but the Blood of Jesus," and then "Oh, the Blood of Jesus," and sometimes "Christ, That Sure is a Lot of Blood." And gradually a crowd started to form.

Now, naturally I was scared. My Meemaw had warned me all about these people, and judging from a Luther Vandross song I heard on the radio once I knew we might be in for some kind of sexual attack. I wasn't surprised when they started calling us things like "uptight" and "honkeys." I can't even remember all the hateful things that were shouted at us. Clearly we'd reached these people just in time.

"What, can't you find any white folks who need saving?" someone asked, and they just got even madder when we very politely said no. They surrounded us and started yelling at us, even though we'd been minding our own business, singing and blocking the sidewalk with God's love.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" a woman shouted. Chrisdene figured it was time to pull out our signs, so people driving by could receive the Good Word too. Strangely, this drove the crowd even further off the edge. Somebody grabbed the sign right out of my hand and threw it on the ground. Dagnabit! I thought. That sign took me two hours to make, because on my first couple tries I'd spelled "darkie" wrong. Then somebody yelled "BJ!" and I saw red. "GOD DAMN YOU!" I yelled back. "Didn't you see my PROMISE RING, you pea-brained, sex-crazed Satanist? You''ll be SUCKING COCKS IN HELL unless you REPENT!"

I didn't realize it was Bobby Joe's mom. She's driven up from Jersey City to bring us hot chocolate and Subway sandwiches. Luckily she's a Christian too so she understood.

Well, this just seemed to make our attackers even madder. They wouldn't even listen when we said that God loves them regardless how personally repugnant they were. Finally some police officers turned up and formed a line around us, and after telling us how proud they were of us and how important it was for us to spead God's message, they said we had to go home NOW. They led us to our van and we drove home, eating our Subway sandwiches and singing along the way.

When we got home, we prayed and sang some more. In my heart I know our message must have gotten out to one or two of those people. I know when they get home they'll think, "Gosh, those white people seem so smart; I wish I was just like them!" and then they'll ask Jesus into their hearts. It's thoughts like this that keep me going. Heck, we're already planning next week's visit to some place where the Jews live.

And no, in case you're wondering, we're not doing this for money or our own egos or anything. We just love people!