There is a story, and I need a essay about that. It will include intro first. 500 words, thanks.Writers and Details
4. What data do you find most impressive to support the thesis? What details does
Abrams provide for the effects of national grief and trauma on pregnancy and
fetal development?
5. How do the citations enhance the essay?
I was saved from sin when I was going on thirteen. But not really saved. It happened like
this. There was a big revival at my auntie Reed’s church. Every night for weeks there had
been much preaching, singing, praying, and shouting, and some very hardened sinners
had been brought to Christ, and the membership of the church had grown by leaps and
bounds. Then just before the revival ended, they held a special meeting for children, “to
bring the young lambs to the fold.” My aunt spoke of it for days ahead. That night I was
escorted to the front row and placed on the mourners’ bench with all the other young sin-
ners, who had not yet been brought to Jesus.
My aunt told me that when you were saved you saw a light, and something happened
to you inside! And Jesus came into your life! And God was with you from then on! She
said you could see and hear and feel Jesus in your soul. I believed her. I had heard a great
many old people say the same thing and it seemed to me they ought to know. So I sat there
calmly in the hot, crowded church, waiting for Jesus to come to me.
The preacher preached a wonderful rhythmical sermon, all moans and shouts and
lonely cries and dire pictures of hell, and then he sang a song about the ninety and nine
safe in the fold, but one little lamb was left out in the cold. Then he said: “Won’t you come?
Won’t you come to Jesus? Young lambs, won’t you come?” And he held out his arms to all
us young sinners there on the mourner’s bench. And the little girls cried. And some of them
jumped up and went to Jesus right away. But most of us just sat there.
A great many old people came and knelt around us and prayed, old women with jet-
black faces and braided hair, old men with work-gnarled hands. And the church sang a
song about the lower lights are burning, some poor sinners to be saved. And the whole
building rocked with prayer and song.
Still I kept waiting to see Jesus.
Finally all the young people had gone to the altar and were saved, but one boy and
me. He was a rounder’s son named Westley. Westley and I were surrounded by sisters and
deacons praying. It was very hot in the church, and getting late now. Finally Westley said to
me in a whisper: “God damn! I’m tired o’ sitting here. Let’s get up and be saved.” So he got
up and was saved.
CHAPTER 3 Finding and Supporting a Thesis
Then I was leit all alone on the mourners’ bench. My aunt came and knelt at my knees
and cried, while prayers and songs swirled all around me in the little church. The whole
congregation prayed for me alone, in a mighty wail of moans and voices. And I kept waiting
serenely for Jesus, waiting, waiting-but he didn’t come. I wanted to see him, but nothing
happened to me. Nothing! I wanted something to happen to me, but nothing happened.
I heard the songs and the minister saying: “Why don’t you come? My dear child, why
don’t you come to Jesus? Jesus is waiting for you. He wants you. Why don’t you come? Sis-
ter Reed, what is this child’s name?”
“Langston,” my aunt sobbed.
“Langston, why don’t you come? Why don’t you come and be saved? Oh, Lamb of God!
Why don’t you come?”
Now it was really getting late. I began to be ashamed of myself, holding everything up
so long. I began to wonder what God thought about Westley, who certainly hadn’t seen Je-
sus either, but who was now sitting proudly on the platform, swinging his knickerbockered
legs and grinning down at me, surrounded by deacons and old women on their knees pray-
ing. God had not struck Westley dead for taking his name in vain or for lying in the temple.
So I decided that maybe to save further trouble, I’d better lie, too, and say that Jesus had
come, and get up and be saved.
So I got up
Suddenly the whole room broke into a sea of shouting, as they saw me rise. Waves of
rejoicing swept the place. Women leaped in the air. My aunt threw her arms around me.
The minister took me by the hand and led me to the platform.
When things quieted down, in a hushed silence, punctuated by a few ecstatic “Amens,”
all the new young lambs were blessed in the name of God. Then joyous singing filled the
That night, for the last time in my life but one-for I was a big boy twelve years old
cried. I cried, in bed alone, and couldn’t stop. I buried my head under the quilts, but my aunt
heard me. She woke up and told my uncle I was crying because the Holy Ghost had come
into my life, and because I had seen Jesus. But I was really crying because I couldn’t bear to
tell her that I had lied, that I had deceived everybody in the church, that I hadn’t seen Jesus,
and that now I didn’t believe there was a Jesus any more, since he didn’t come to help me.
1. What is the thesis of this selection State it in your own words.
2. What specific sensory details help support the thesis?
3. Why does the narrator not stand as he was expected to early in the narrative?
4. Why at the end does he in fact rise? How do the people around him react when he
finally stands? Why? Why does the narrator cry at night?
5. Write an essay about how people pressured you (or someone you know) to do
something you weren’t sure was right. Or, perhaps you would prefer to write
about a religious experience that you had. Be sure to support your thesis with
concrete sensory detail.

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