Rants of a Weird Little Bird

Random stuff involving myself…and people around me. Hello, and goodbye. :-)

A Harrowing (Christian) Concert Experience

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Back when I was in primary school, my mother took me to a live concert performance at an auditorium, and among the singers that night were some fairly popular singers, one of whom sang a very popular Chinese drama which was telecast on prime time in Singapore.

My memories are rather hazy on the exact year which this occurred, but as it turned out, it was a very unforgettable experience – for all the wrong reasons.

Over and over again, during their performances, when interacting with the audience, the singer would go into something about being a “Ji Du Tu” (“基督徒”, or “Christian”, for people who know Chinese), and at that age, I had practically no knowledge of what that meant, nor did I care. I was simply delighted that my mother had taken me out to watch a concert – and I loved music at that time. All the singers, when reminiscing their experience seemed to revel in the experience of being a “Ji Du Tu”.

I’m not going to talk about the singers here, because I can’t remember what songs they sang at this point of time, save for the fact that a singer that I used to admire very much appeared then; which was why I wanted to attend that performance with my mother in the first place. At that time, I was too young to appreciate good singing, though I knew enough P’s and Q’s to applaud every singer.

However, when all the singers had finished, and it was near the end of the concert, some man dressed in some weird-looking flowing white robe took to the stage and started to speak in a very aggressive, and yet charismatic manner.

Again, my memory of the experience is sketchy, and I can’t remember how the man began his speech, but the middle of his speech stuck in my mind.

“There’s this man who died for you on the cross,” he thundered to the audience. “You know how they used to nail people on the cross during these times?

“One of their methods of doing so was forcing the feet together like this!” He put his feet together. “They would then hammer the nail right across the ankles horizontally!” He mimicked the horrific sight of a nail driven right through his ankles from his side. “Blow, by blow, the sharp nail, which is this thick – ” he used his hands to demonstrate, ” – and this long, they would drive it with a hammer, right through the ankles!”

“Another way of nailing people on the cross was to twist the man sideways!” the priest turned so that his feet were in a straight line, his left toes touching his right ankle, “and they would DRIVE the nail right through his feet!”

I recalled that he proceeded to talk about driving nails through the man’s hands too, but can’t remember how he did that. It was the way he described the nail being driven through the legs which stuck in my mind.

“That was obviously very painful to bear. How can you let a man suffer for you like this? His death was for each and every single one of you!”

This went on for nearly a good five minutes. I cannot remember what else that pastor said, but it involved things like snakes, good, evil, God and whatnot. Initially, I found it ridiculous, but gradually, it became a terrifying experience, and just for . Fortunately or otherwise, I cannot remember exactly what it was that the weird person in white robes was doing, or even selling, but I was terrified of the graphic descriptions that weird person kept on harping, about a man called “Ye Soo” being nailed to the cross in all sorts of manners. I was terrified of having a nail driven through my own feet. I was terrified that the priest was going to nail my feet to the wall himself, and I was terrified, because what had begun as a live concert had suddenly become an arena where some strange man talking about people having nails hammered through their hands and feet on wooden boards!

After an interminable description of this great man who somehow decided to die for everyone in the auditorium, the priest finally seemed to calm down. I was instantly relieved.

“All of you,” he addressed everyone in the crowd, “if you say, yes, I want to be saved by this great man, please put up your hand if you want to be saved.”

A few put up their hands.

“Yes, I see you, God bless you,” he said, pointing to a direction in the crowd.

“Does anyone want to feel the great love and accept this great man as your saviour?” he ventured.

“Yes, I see you, God bless you,” he said, pointing to another direction in the crowd.

Again, and again, he asked if people wanted to accept this dead “Ye Su” (“Jesus” in Chinese) as their saviour, and again and again, he acknowledged people in the crowd who had put up their hands. Slowly, more and more people put up their hands, and the frequency of him acknowledging the crowd increased. I remembered myself being tempted to put up my hand and wanting to acknowledge him, but I was not sure what my mother would say. She did not seem to be interested in putting up her hand, and for me, I just wanted to make this weird and threatening man on stage happy, in case he decided to drive a nail through my feet. Eventually, I saw him acknowledging more and more people – and I wondered if I was going to ever leave the auditorium if he did not see everyone put up their hands.

“All of you who have put up our hands, please come up on stage now,” he invited.

I saw a big throng go up on stage. Eventually, the number of people filled up nearly three-quarters of the stage, and more of them were trickling forward. The priest seemed satisfied. I was relieved.

“After tonight, please go and tell your friends and family members that you are now Ji Du Tu, and Ye Su loves all of you. We are all one family now,” said the priest. It looked somewhat unnerving to me that people could actually go up on stage and suddenly become one family. My mother took me away, and though, as you can see, I do not recall anything that went on during the concert, except that one of the singers was someone whom I really liked when I was young, that harrowing recount of the strange man who had nails driven through his legs reverberate in my mind even today.

It turns out that it would not be my first brush with Christianity, and I suspect that it would not be my last either. However, it was most probably the scariest.


Written by aweirdlittlebird

February 25, 2010 at 3:21 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

One Response

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  1. “The priest seemed satisfied.” haha! the way u describe it, u make it sound like the priest was looking for sacrificial victims… :P quite funny, the way u described it, esp from a (formerly) small boy’s eyes.

    but yeah, tink must have been a really scary experience then… :P


    February 25, 2010 at 5:20 pm

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