Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker
No Ordinary Noel (15 page)
Chapter 24
“I
will begin at Acts 10:14,” the reverend announced. “If you have your swordsâBibles to those not familiar with that termâthen please read along with me.”
will begin at Acts 10:14,” the reverend announced. “If you have your swordsâBibles to those not familiar with that termâthen please read along with me.”
Sister Betty watched with interest and awe. She'd managed to get a ride and had arrived at the end of the missionary offering. She nodded at the two church mothers who had somehow managed to get to the service. She wasn't surprised when she didn't see either Bea or Sasha. She was almost relieved. She didn't feel like playing the role of spiritual probation officer with those two.
Trustee Noel sat with a few other men. The reverend's confidence caught him off guard. He figured after the reverend discovered his grandmother sold her body, he would've preached about the woman at the well or even the woman caught in the act of adultery. He certainly didn't expect him to preach from Acts, particularly since he seemed so embedded in church law without compromise. The trustee took a moment and looked toward where Sister Betty, Bea, and Sasha usually sat. He found only Sister Betty, her eyes fixated on the pulpit. He turned and did likewise.
Reverend Tom normally had one of the deacons read the text scripture but not that morning. He was God's general on a mission and if he needed his army, he'd call them, but at that moment, he fought alone.
“But Peter said, Not so, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is common or unclean.” The reverend stopped reading and ran his hand through his hair, although there was not a strand out of place. He was the only thing out of order. He withdrew a large handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped his brow and continued. “And the voice spake unto him again the second time, what God hath cleaned, that call not thou common.”
He slowly closed his Bible and came down from the pulpit.
There was none of the usual enthusiasm or prodding from the congregation. No “amen,” or “preach, pastor, preach.” Even the men who, moments before, had confirmed the pastor speaking in tongues with a display of their own were silent.
Before the entire congregation, the pastor testified of his journey through his prayer and fast. He went from summation to testifying without interruption.
Reverend Tom ran the gamut. The words poured from him and he was helpless to leave out anything. He confessed how he thought he'd lost his mind when he wrestled with an angel. He connected the dots of his vision of the woman wearing the harlot's ankle bracelet. “And then I discovered my beloved grandmother, Lillie Sinclair, sold her body for money. That same money sent me to divinity school to preach God's word and the interest on that investment stands humbled before a tolerant congregation.”
From across the sanctuary the reverend heard, “Tell it. God is the master builder,” and “Let Him use you, pastor,” and “Nasty money ain't always nasty.” He had no idea from whom or from where exactly the encouragements came. He was in the zone that only those connected directly to the power of God experienced. Everything else became background noise.
When he'd told almost all he needed to reveal, he was exhausted. But he wasn't finished. Taking a deep breath, he returned to the pulpit.
He wiped his brow again and almost threw his body across the top of the podium. He allowed the congregation to rest for a moment along with him. Then he became irritated, but in a good way.
The reverend said to the congregation, “I know without a shadow of doubt that this morning on my way here, God led me to pass by the Promised Land. He wanted to give me a spiritual view of what stood in my way, and it was me. Yet also in my natural view, across the road from this church were the Cheater Brothers from the bank.”
The reverend felt a sudden surge of power. His arm muscles rippled beneath his robe as his hands gripped both sides of the podium. He began to claw at the Plexiglas. He'd be a hypocrite if he said he wasn't upset.
In an instant, disapproving mumbling rang out across the sanctuary. “Don't let the enemy take you there.” One of the deacons encouraged, “You know God fights your battles.”
The reverend showed his agreement when he added in a raised voice, “As I said, I saw the Cheater Brothers along with some other men. I didn't stop to make introductions, but I believe they were the potential buyers.” Pointing suddenly in the direction of Trustee Noel and several other members of the Finance Committee, he added, “but I am also certain those brothers seated over there stand with me when I say that the news of Crossing Over Sanctuary losing the Promised Land is a bit premature.”
The congregation was few in number that Sunday morning. However, they jumped to their feet and began to praise God. The way they shouted, bucked, whooped, and screamed was as though the Lord had descended and walked amongst them.
The organist stood. He pushed the hem of his choir robe to the back, raised one leg on the organ stool, and pounded the organ keys. He worked the choir and the worshippers into a frenzy.
There was no rest for the ushers that morning. They raced from one energetic congregant to another shoving, covering, fanning, and caressing those worshippers who'd fallen out like dominoes.
Chapter 25
T
he service had ended almost two hours ago and the reverend hadn't left the church. He'd debated whether to go home or stay until the business meeting.
he service had ended almost two hours ago and the reverend hadn't left the church. He'd debated whether to go home or stay until the business meeting.
Neither Elder Batty Brick nor Brother Leon Casanova had made it to the morning service. Without the full Finance Committee present the reverend met with Trustee Noel who'd seemingly latched onto Sister Betty and wasn't letting go.
“I cannot apologize enough,” Reverend Tom told Trustee Noel. “You can believe I will make a public apology at the meeting this afternoon as well.”
“There's no need for that, Reverend Tom. Just you standing up there in front of the entire church and addressing me was good enough.”
“Okay, Moses and Joshua,” Sister Betty interjected, “this is only one battle. We haven't won the war yet.”
Reverend Tom and Trustee Noel gave Sister Betty a questioning look.
Reverend Tom asked, “Sister Betty, I just said that we will take the Promised Land. What do you mean we haven't won the war?”
“I'm talking about from here on. Taking the Promised Land is just one battle. Are you certain you can accept all this unrighteousness that is a part of your church?”
“Ma'am.” Reverend Tom didn't want her to throw cold water on what he felt was his aha moment, but she had doused it completely. “I'm not quite sure I know what you mean.”
She could see the effect her words had on him. She truly didn't want to see his glorious worship abruptly ended. He was a much better spirit when he was in the Spirit.
“What I'm asking is whether or not you can accept that perhaps there's more evil or tainted money floating around and supporting our church than you know about. What you do about it from this point on will probably depend on how much you can accept now. God has shone a light on something that had just as much to do with your pride as it did with the bad habits of your flock.”
Trustee Noel in an earlier moment before he knew the reverend was going to accept his tithes might've just kept quiet. However, a lot had happened in the past twenty-four hours. He felt he had about twenty-five million reasons to say something. So he did.
“I say we table this for another time. The business meeting will start soon and we need to prepare.” He spoke with a new confidence that wasn't lost on Sister Betty and the reverend. They quickly looked around to see if he were lip-synching someone else's words.
Reverend Tom pondered what the trustee added to the conversation. He found nothing useful nor would it explain Sister Betty's concern, but he said nothing. If he'd learned anything in the past weeks, it was that he needed to listen more and speak less.
Sister Betty leaned her head to the side and adjusted her Bible. She'd begun to admire the changes she saw in the trustee, but now wasn't the time for admiration. She needed to reset his clock right then and there.
“You were blessed when you won that Mega Lottery, were you not?” She turned and faced the trustee head-on. She turned her back to her pastor and didn't include him in the rebuke.
“Yes, I was very blessed.” Trustee Noel tried to understand where she was going with her questions, but he couldn't.
“If you'd won twenty dollars in a scratch off and tithed two dollars would you have been just as happy giving?”
“Yes, I would. I always tithe ten percent of whatever I get. It's just that I wanted to tithe more than ten percent this time. I've not missed tithing from my social security, either. It's not like I haven't won money before . . .” He clamped his hand over his mouth and reached for that sprig of his. He realized where she'd led him and he'd stepped right into it.
Sister Betty smiled. She'd gotten what she'd needed from the trustee and hoped the reverend understood.
He did. He would never know where a blessing came from unless it was shown to be so.
He stood from behind his desk and walked over to one of the bookcases in his office. He took down four leather-bound books, each one representing a different milestone in the church's history since he became the pastor. He placed them on top of a stack of other books that included his personal Bible.
“When I prayed and fasted,” the reverend began, “I asked God not to show me in parables, but to show me in a way that was undeniably Him.”
“Be careful when you offer the Lord a challenge like that,” Sister Betty said softly. “He won't and can't back down. He's not like man. He cannot lie.” She walked to where the reverend stood and smiled.
“And He won't change His mind about His business, either.” She placed a hand on the reverend's arm, and with the conviction of a seasoned woman of God, she added, “and sometimes when He throws back the covers, the sheets are dirty and in need of changing. But you still gotta sleep somewhere.”
Trustee Noel saw Reverend Tom kiss Sister Betty on the cheek, then on the back of her hand. He wanted to say something about how inappropriate he thought of his pastor's action. He'd never had those feelings before. He wondered if he felt jealous after a cooked meal and a limo ride. He hoped not.
“I know what to do now,” Reverend Tom announced as he looked at the security monitor. The members had begun arriving for the meeting. “Let's get ready for the business meeting.”
He suggested that Sister Betty and Trustee Noel join hands and pray along with him. He asked God to continue guiding him and that he not make a complete fool of himself. He was as earnest in his last request as he'd been in the first.
By the time the three entered the sanctuary it was almost packed. More than fifteen auxiliaries came to the meeting with a lot to say.
Although not the entire Mothers Board made it to the meeting, somehow Bea and Sasha did. Not too far away Elder Batty Brick and Brother Casanova sat with other committee and board members.
Once the formalities were doneâprayer, reading the minutes, and placing new business on the tableâthey got down to business.
Word about that morning service and the reverend's sudden change of heart had gotten around. However, most wanted to personally see and hear it.
Reverend Tom had changed from his preaching robe into his street clothes. The business meetings were very informal in dress. Anything from coveralls to Timberlands dotted the sanctuary. Three people at the meeting hadn't worn dungarees or something simple. Sister Betty and Trustee Noel stood out because they hadn't changed since coming to morning service. Alice “Grandma Puddin'” had thrown back a bit too much at the Throwback Seniors Prom. She'd shown up wearing a two-piece outfit with her belly peeking out. From a distance, her ugly stretch marks made it seem as though she'd worn corduroy.
Reverend Tom took his place at the podium and began the business meeting. “Many months ago, we all came together and agreed with the vision God gave me. We agreed that Pelzer was becoming like Egypt in the Bible with the economy dropping, young people leaving and our senior citizens barely eking out a living. We promised to tithe and we'd all get to the Promised Land. Since that time some of us have had to make some hard choices.” He looked around before he asked, “Are we in agreement thus far?”
When no one disputed what he said the reverend continued. “There are a few members who are barely above the poverty level, so of course, their choices are very different.”
He stepped down from the pulpit. It wasn't a time for him to look down across the sanctuary. He needed to meet his congregation on their level and some of their levels were dismal.
He stood by the first pew where some of his most senior or handicapped sat on pews. Some came to the meeting with their health aides, but most had to do for themselves.
“We have some members, I've recently learned, that are at the point where my heart is broken for them. I'm told they usually make the hard choices that depend on whether its Alpo or Kibble and Bits that is on sale. They buy day-old bread. Some are dividing pills to make them last.”
A sea of nods in agreement appeared, but no one said a word.
“Whatever price they paid for those things will set how much they can put toward the rent. Right now, they can eat or they can sleep, but its hell trying to do both. We cannot take away their hope.”
“That's just nasty and you know that, too.” Brother Casanova frowned and hissed, “Ain't none of us doing that bad! Who's robbing from their grocery store money to pay rent?”
As the harsh words left his mouth, Brother Casanova looked around the sanctuary. He saw Elder Brick cringe and shake his head in dismay. On another pew, he saw a young woman with three small children seated next to her like stair steps. The young woman with her shoulders lowered as though she'd already surrendered to her burden, removed brown framed bifocal glasses with double-thick lenses. She wiped away a tear that seemed bigger before she'd removed those thick lenses. Against the church rules, he saw the children nibbling hungrily on cookies from a napkin. They ate without dropping a crumb.
Then Brother Casanova looked over at Bea and Sasha. He saw how the two proud old women sat then with their bodies stiff in defiance, yet they wouldn't even lift their faces to meet his gaze.
“My God,” Brother Casanova threw up his hands. “My God, I didn't know how blessed I am. I never thought it had come to this for some of our church family. Are we not our brother's keepers?”
Reverend Tom hung his head. No wonder the body of Christ was doing so badly. He was the head of the church and in worse shape because of pride.
The unexpected outburst from Brother Casanova emboldened the reverend. He had a long speech prepared, but it paled in comparison to the hurt that had surfaced. He'd asked God to show him not in parables, but in reality. God was doing just that and more.
Reverend Tom began to speak. “Some were here this morning and know my position on some of our current situations. For the benefit of those who weren't at the morning service, I'd like to reiterate.
“Over the past few weeks, a lot has happened. Satan has appeared at every turn and seems comfortable in bringing strife to Crossing Over Sanctuary. As I said earlier, I've prayed, fought, prayed some more, and fought some more. I don't know about you, but I want to start over again. Have we grown into a church that does not care or cannot take care of its own? What does it profit to gain the whole world and lose one's soul?”
He stopped speaking, turned, and walked to the middle of the chancel and stopped in front of a large high-back chair. The church called it the VIP throne where visiting dignitaries often sat. He placed his hand on the back of the chair.
“This afternoon, we're gonna try something different, an experiment. We're putting Satan on notice and we're gonna reason together as though Jesus himself was the moderator, sitting right here listening and watching.”
No one said a word. They couldn't. He'd come from as far left field as they'd ever seen. Moreover, before they could grasp what he meant, the reverend pulled a purple strip of material from his pocket and wrapped it around the back of the chair. He placed a Bible on the seat.
Hardly a person attending that business meeting didn't think they needed to call an intervention for their pastor. However, the only ones bold enough to say so were Bea and Sasha.
“I do believe he done gone too far now.” Bea moved closer to Sasha, pretending to straighten the blond wig she'd worn especially for the business meeting, thinking it made her stand out more when she had something to say. It did.
Bea leaned over and whispered loudly to Sasha, “I ain't got no minutes left on my cell phone. Can you call that nut doctor that treats your family?”
Before Sasha could respond, the reverend rebuked Bea. “Mother Blister, we're trying to have the meeting. When the floor is open then you can voice any concerns you have.”
“Harrumph.” Sasha moved away from Bea. She looked around at the other members to see if any agreed that her family needed a nut doctor.
With eyes straight ahead and on the reverend, the entire congregation could've won an Oscar. Everyone knew Sasha and her entire Hellraiser clan needed the services of not only a nut doctor, but an exorcist, too.
When he finished decorating the chair Reverend Tom continued. “We are supposed to love each other as Christ loved the church. Christmas is right around the corner and we're supposed to celebrate His birth. Yet, we're backbiting and acting a fool and there's not a one of us who can claim ownership of salvation more than another, and yet we do. Me especially.”
Reverend Tom walked over and stood in front of the pulpit. “Y'all just remember that Jesus is listening and watching from that empty chair.”
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