TULALIP – The time is now for Indian tribes in the Pacific Northwest, preacher Merle Williams told more than 100 people gathered Wednesday in a tent on the Tulalip Tribes’ Boom City grounds.
God hasn’t forgotten the first Americans, the Upper Skagit tribal member shouted into a microphone.
Williams stood on a stage, flanked by colorful banners proclaiming “King of Kings” and “Lion of Judah.”
“We declare war on drugs and alcohol, suicides, that are taking hold of our Indian Reservations, hallelujah, praise the Lord!” Williams’ voice boomed, each word tinged with the accent many evangelists adopt while preaching.
It’s time for a gospel revival.
That’s what Williams believes is about to happen at Tulalip, and he’ll preach it this week, even to a crowd that may fill only a quarter of the tent he leased for the occasion.
By Saturday, Williams said, hundreds more will flock to the four-day Eagle Warrior’s Conference to hear TBN evangelist Betty Jean Robinson and other headliners.
The old-fashioned gospel tent revival may have gone the way of the Sunday afternoon potluck in mainstream America, but experts and tribal leaders say they remain popular on American Indian reservations.
“It seems to be inbred in Native Americans that they do love to meet that way,” said Ray Smith, of the Phoenix-based Christian Hope Indian Eskimo Fellowship, an evangelistic organization.
“A lot of them feel that perhaps the church is a confining place,” Smith said. “They grew up off the land, and as a result, when they can meet in the open, there seems to be more freedom.”
Smith, an Ojibwe tribal member, said that while some tribes are resistant to what they call “the white man’s gospel,” many are becoming more open to it as Indian preachers replace white missionaries.
“This is a strong revivalist tradition that goes back to elements of the Great Revival that took place in the 1700s,” said Tom Grayson Colonnese, director of American Indian studies at the University of Washington.
Some American Indians harbor a strong sense of betrayal by white colonists and missionaries, who brought disease and persecution, and ultimately, the destruction of the tribes’ traditional way of life.
“I’ve been told many times that I have a white man’s religion,” Williams said before the service, when his voice was soft and low.
In order to sell that religion to American Indians, it has to be presented by an Indian preacher in an outdoor arena, where tribal members can come and go as they please, or even listen to the preaching and the music from their cars, Williams said.
“This tent is open, free. You don’t feel under pressure here,” said Arsenio Credo, an Alaskan Tlingit who attends Williams’ Marysville church.
Pentecostal Christianity is known for miracle oil, Holy Spirit power and services with dancing and singing that can seem chaotic to an outsider.
Pentecostalism is growing on Indian reservations, whether in the Indian Shaker tradition or through a denomination such as Assemblies of God or the Foursquare Church.
The religion empowers believers, said Grayson Colonnese, a Santee Sioux Indian.
Preachers appeal to tribal members when they declare that a reservation will overcome its hardscrabble past or that the people will be healed of diabetes.
The spirit-world aspect of Pentecostal Christianity may also draw some Indians, he said.
“As you shift from one religion to another, it’s hard to get people to make that shift unless they have some elements that are familiar,” he said.
Visions and spirit powers have long been integral to traditional Indian religions.
Now, Christian Indians see angels and demons instead of trickster animals. They mind the words of a preacher instead of an Indian shaman.
Rose Williams, Merle Williams’ wife, told the crowd Wednesday that the Indian religion was all she knew until a friend invited her to church.
“That was the first time I sang a hymn where the words meant something. Now, this is my longhouse,” she said, pointing to the poles the held the tent in place. “The Holy Ghost fires are burning warm here.”
The crowd stretched its hands heavenward and cheered as Apache gospel singer Johnny Curtis took the stage.
“I’m a revival preacher,” he sang to a guitar twang. “Just a holy red man teacher.”
The words brought the people to their feet, then to their knees.
It was just what they needed to hear.
The Eagle Warriors Conference, an old-fashioned gospel tent revival, continues at 7 tonight and Saturday at Boom City on 27th Avenue NE behind the Tulalip Casino. For more information, call Merle Williams at 425-870-2443.
Reporter Krista J. Kapralos: 425-339-3422 or kkapralos@heraldnet.com.
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