Let Love Rule - Lenny Kravitz Page 0,29

even have a radio. After two days, our health had improved, but to be safe they had us stay a third day. That evening, David asked me a question no one had ever asked before.

Did I know Jesus?

I told David how Grandpa Albert and Mom had taken me to various churches where Jesus was described as a great teacher. David said he understood that, but did I know that he was more than that? Did I know the gospel? No, not really. That’s when David began speaking about Jesus and his ministry. David wasn’t preachy or pushy. In a plainspoken way, he described a man, the son of God, who lived his life through love. Jesus loved everybody. He accepted everyone. He told everyone to love and to forgive.

David used terms I hadn’t thought about before—terms like salvation. He said that by accepting Christ’s free gift of grace through his sacrifice, we could have everlasting life. All this was said matter-of-factly. David wasn’t trying to convince or convert. It was just one kid talking to another. I was interested, even fascinated, but that was it. David didn’t ask me to get on my knees and give my life to Christ. He didn’t even ask me to pray. He simply spoke from the heart and said what he believed. I had questions he was happy to answer. His explanations made sense, but it was still all new to me.

Then something happened that neither one of us could explain. In the middle of all this talking, a force entered the room, a weirdly powerful, vibrating energy that shocked us into silence. David looked at me. I looked at him. We were both thinking, Is this really happening? It was. The vibrating became even more pronounced. We were trembling, and then we were crying uncontrollably. I wasn’t afraid. I was overwhelmed by emotion. I’d never experienced a feeling like this before. After a minute or two, it all stopped.

Inside, I knew what it was. I knew what I’d felt. I’d felt God. I’d felt the living reality of the words David had spoken. I believe that God knew that I needed more than stories to reach me. I needed to be shaken up. I needed an experience that was both spiritual and physical.

In the aftermath, I realized that this epiphany was what I’d been seeking ever since I was a little boy haunted by the trapped-in-the-coffin nightmares. It showed me what Christ had shown the world: that he had conquered death. Believing in his message of all-inclusive love, I had conquered my fear. This epiphany was the remedy. The nightmare never returned.

The next day, David and I were released from quarantine, and we rejoined our choir buddies. I didn’t say a thing, but in my heart I knew I had been born again.

* * *

Back home, I didn’t mention it to Mom or Dad. It was something I wanted to keep to myself for a while. At the same time, I felt a burning need to worship with other believers. Sometime later, a school friend took me to the Berean Seventh-day Adventist church down the hill from our house, on Adams Boulevard, a street lined with African American sanctuaries. SDA’s theology combined both sides of me, the New Testament and the Old. SDAs obeyed all the Levitical laws, and like Jews they observed the Sabbath on Saturday. The services were spirit-filled: big choir, joyful music. I had mixed feelings about the ceremonial foot washing. It was humbling but bizarre to clean a stranger’s toes.

Also bizarre, but in an inspiring way, was the presence of Richard Wayne Penniman, better known as Little Richard, one of the founding fathers of rock ’n’ roll. He came to Berean to worship and also preach. I related to him, not just because he called himself a Black Jew, but because I felt his soul in his secular songs. “Tutti Frutti” and “Long Tall Sally” had worldly words but gospel fervor. I could feel the excitement of God in all Richard’s music. And I also loved his look: high-coiffed hair, heavy eye makeup, and neon sharkskin suits. Just because I was worshipful in church didn’t mean I was moving away from rock ’n’ roll.

Beyond the charisma of Little Richard, the real appeal of SDA was the passion of its faith and its clear-cut gospel interpretation. The Bible is an ambiguous book, but as a kid, I didn’t want ambiguity. I wanted certainty. And at that time, the SDA interpretation