Segment: Snake Handlers
Welcome to my very first write up for my Beyond Bizarre blog. Let's start at the 'ol genesis: snake handlers. This is the 1st segment of the 1st episode of Beyond Bizarre. If you are new here (I am too!) greetings. My plan for this blog is to keep the coolness of this show alive, albeit this show may be outdated as hell but it is for sure a lost gem I rarely see anyone talk about. Footage is pretty scarce as well. I plan to post transcripts, tv clips (when available) and other anecdotes for what was featured on the show. Thus, being my first post of this. I am uneducated on a lot of things including my writing skills and knowledge of subjects featured but I promise to try the best of my ability to do it justice. And be prepared for me to randomly update posts on an infrequent basis.
Now, let's get into it.
The very first segment to be featured on Beyond Bizarre's first episode just so happens to be about handling snakes and serpents with the confidence of the lord's shield that is heavily practiced in one church in particular.
One of the few clips available on Youtube! If you'd like, you can follow along in my transcript:
Located in Kingston, Georgia is the Church of the Lord Jesus Christ led by Reverend Carl Porter.
If you ever wondered what it would be like well then look no further, someone wrote an article on their experience. According to the website it is hosted on, it was originally on a now non-existing newpaper maybe? Idk but their wording was "Dixie Living" in the Sunday Section. Sounds very newspaper-y to me. To steal their steal here is the article in condensed snippets. Click the link below to read the article in its entirety.
Source: The Moonlit Road
Several years ago, I attended a snake-handling service near Kingston. It was one of the most riveting experiences of my life.
The Rev. Carl Porter, a pleasant, round-faced man, finally ushered me inside. Lightning had knocked out the church’s power, and gas lanterns swung from the ceiling beams. A four-piece country band softly tuned their instruments behind the pulpit. I was struck at how normal the scene was. These people were not toothless hillbilly caricatures, but everyday blue-collar families brought together by a common interpretation of the Scriptures.
Under the eerie glow of hissing lanterns, the preacher began. One by one, the members stood, gave testimony and asked for special prayers. At first, it seemed more like a community meeting than a church service, a pep rally for the “believers” against a persecutive outside world.
Porter asked if I wished to give testimony. “Pray for me,” I muttered The congregation nodded, thinking I was talking about my soul.
I was thinking about what was inside those boxes.
The service was unstructured and unpredictable. Fiery sermons followed calm moments of reflection, intense prayers followed gentle hymns. The “believers” scoff at the idea of handing out programs before a church service. Their services are guided strictly by the ebbing and flowing of emotions. No snakes are handled until the Holy Ghost “anoints” the church.
As the hours passed, a hidden energy swept through the room. The hymns became pounding, rockabilly-style numbers. People stomped their feet, shouted and danced, some banging tambourines and cymbals. Others spoke in tongues, writhing on the Boor. An elder buried his fingers in a teenage boy’s forehead, screaming at a demon inside.
As the music reached a fever pitch, the elders formed a semicircle around the pulpit, keeping the women and children at a safe distance. Porter opened the wooden boxes, pouring clumps of twisting rattlesnakes and copperheads onto the open Bible. They passed the snakes around, draping them around their necks, thrusting them triumphantly into the air. They became bolder as the music pumped faster and faster, tossing the snakes back and forth, stuffing them down their shirts, walking on them with bare feet. Porter grabbed handfuls at a time, the serpents twisting in his fists like Medusa’s hair.
But the snakes didn’t strike. They only stared at their captors, seemingly hypnotized by the pulsating music.
The “anointing” passed as quickly as it started After a brief benediction, the congregation parted into the stormy night. Several members embraced, telling me to come back whenever I wanted.
Nice little insight for someone who witnessed it firsthand. Sorry for the lazy research as this article it literally the top search result when you Google up the name of the church. Needless to say, admittedly off topic, Moonlit Road looks like an interesting website if you guys want to check it out for yourself. Looks like they are a modest group of people who just want to spread the good word...lolz. They are geared towards creepy storytelling and short stories.
This video is also included in the above article just in case you would like to check it out as well.
