救赎 兰斯顿 休斯
在我快满13岁的时候，我从罪孽中得到拯救，但并未得到真正拯救。事情的经过是这样的：我的姑母丽德所在的教堂组织了一个声势很大的福音布道会。一连几个星期，每个晚上都有讲道、唱诗、祈祷和欢呼声。一些顽固不化的“罪人”被带到基督身边，因此，教堂信众的人数迅猛增加。在布道会结束之前，他们又专为孩子们举行了一个仪式，为了“把迷途的羔羊领回羊圈”。几天之前姑母就一直在念叨这件事。那天晚上，我被送到教堂，安顿在前排的忏悔席上，和那些还没有来到耶稣身边的“小罪人们”坐在一起。
姑母说，当你得到拯救的时候，你会看到一道光，你的心灵里也会有感觉。那是耶稣进入了你的生命，从此上帝就和你在一起！她还说，你能在心灵里听见耶稣，看见耶稣，感觉到耶稣。我相信她的话。我听很多老年人都这样说，我想，他们理应知道这些事。我就安安静静地坐在又热又挤的教堂里，等待耶稣来到我身边。
传道士用生动的、富于节奏的语言讲道，他描绘着地狱里的可怕情景：到处是呻吟、哀号和凄凉的哭声。他唱了一首歌，歌中说：九十九只羔羊安安乐乐在羊圈，只有一只流落在外受饥寒。然后他说：“你们不来吗？你们不到耶稣这边来吗？”他向我们坐在忏悔席上的小罪人伸出双臂，小女孩们都哭了，有几个女孩跳起来，立刻向耶稣奔去。可是我们大多数人仍然坐在那里。
许多老年人围拢过来---满脸乌黑发亮，头上梳着发辫的老太婆们和双手长满老茧和节瘤的老头子们，他们跪在我们周围，嗡嗡地祈祷起来。后来教堂里唱起了地狱之火在燃烧，可怜的罪人要得救的歌。祈祷声和唱歌声震撼了大厅。
我继续等着见到耶稣。
最后，除了我和另一个男孩，所有的年轻人都奔向圣坛，得到了拯救。那男孩是个无赖的儿子，名叫韦斯特利。我们两人被念念有词的女教友和教堂执事们团团围住。教堂里热极了，天色也渐渐晚了。最后韦斯特利悄声对我说：“去他的上帝，我在这儿坐腻了。咱们也起来去得救吧。”于是他站起来，得到了了拯救。
现在只剩下我一个人孤零零地坐在忏悔席上。这时姑母走过来，跪在我的膝下放声哭了，小教堂里的祝福声和唱歌声像旋风一样在我周围打转。全体会众一齐哀怨地哭叫为我一个人祷告，而我呢，还是安静地在等待耶稣，我等呀，等呀，但他始终没有来。我很想见他，可连他的影子也没有，一点也没有！我很希望发生点什么事，可什么也没有发生。
我听见唱歌声，也听见牧师在说：“你为什么不来？亲爱的孩子，你为什么不到耶稣这边来？耶稣正在等你。他欢迎你。你为什么不来呢？丽德教友啊，这孩子叫什么名字？”
“叫兰斯敦。”姑母抽泣着说，“兰斯敦，你为什么不来？你为什么不来接受拯救？啊！耶稣！你为什么不来？”
现在天可真的越来越晚了。我感到很难为情，一个人把会拖延这么长。同时我也很纳闷，上帝究竟对韦斯特利怎么想呢？他根本没看见耶稣。可他却洋洋得意地坐在教坛上，晃着穿着灯笼裤的两条腿，咧着嘴直冲着我笑，周围还有执事们和年老的女教友跪着祷告。上帝并没有因为韦斯特利亵渎他的圣名，因为他在教堂里撒谎而将他击毙。我决定，为了不再麻烦。我最好也撒个谎，就说耶稣已经来临，然后站起来去接受拯救。
于是我站了起来。
当人们看见我站起来，整个大厅变成了崇赞的海洋，欢乐的声浪席卷了全教堂。妇女们蹦呀，跳呀。姑母伸出双臂，把我紧紧搂住。牧师抓住我的手，把我领到教坛上。
一切安静下来，只有人们欢喜若狂地祷念“阿门”的声音断断续续打破沉寂时，所有得到新生的羔羊们都接受了上帝的祝福。这时，欢乐的歌声充满了大厅的各个角落。
那天夜里，我哭了。那是我一生中倒数第二次哭---因为我已是个十二岁的大孩子了。我一个人躺在床上哭呀，哭呀，怎么也止不住。我用被子蒙着头，可姑母还是听见了。她醒来对姑父说，我所以哭是因为圣灵进入了我的生命，还因为我已经看见了耶稣。其实，我哭泣的真正原因是我不忍心告诉她我说了谎，我欺骗了教堂里所有的人，也不忍心对她讲我并没有看见耶稣，因此我不再相信世界上有什么耶稣，因为他没有帮助我。
Salvation by Langston Hughes
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 sinners, 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 mourners’ 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 of sitting here. Let’s get up and be saved.” So he got up and was saved.
Then I was left all alone on the mourners’ bench. My aunt came and knelt at my knees and cried, while prayers and song 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? Sister 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 Jesus 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 praying. 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 room.
That night, for the first time in my life but one for I was a big boy twelve years old--I 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 anymore, since he didn’t come to help me
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