When her mother opened her door, she hugged Chastity before she turned to me. Taking my hands into hers, she said, “I’m so glad you’re here with us, Xavier. Welcome,” I smiled… and then she added, “son,” with such sincerity, that single word snatched away every one of my cognitive abilities.
Chastity’s mother didn’t seem to notice how she’d muted me as she spun and began to stroll down the long hallway.
“Now, Pastor won’t be able to meet with you this morning. He’s still preparing his sermon.”
“Really?” Chastity said. “He’s usually finished by Friday.”
“I know, but he was in that place where his spirit was stirred. He told me he just might preach backward.”
“Oh, no,” Chastity said, her tone a mixture of amusement and concern.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Well, I’ve told you about my dad’s gift—this connection he has with God. He believes his messages are for everyone, but there are times when he believes God is using him to speak to someone specifically.”
“And”—Chastity’s mother picked up—“Pastor doesn’t like knowing who God is talking to, especially if it’s a tough message. So he turns his back.”
“Wow,” I said, not quite able to imagine a man standing in the pulpit with his back to more than two thousand people.
“Chastity has been calling it preaching backward,” her mother explained, “since she was a little girl. So that’s what everyone in the church calls it.” She paused as she stood in front of a door. “We still have about twenty minutes before the services begin. You can wait in our guest room. There’s juice, coffee, tea, and danishes in there, and then someone will come when it’s time to go into the sanctuary.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Chastity said as her mother pushed the door open.
But before I could give my own thanks, someone inside shouted, “Surprise!” startling both of us.
My wife recovered before I did. “Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed, pulling the shorter woman into a hug. Behind her, a gentleman who reminded me of Steph Curry in both stature and sway stood from the sofa and joined us.
“What are you doing here?” Chastity asked.
“Excuse me,” the woman said. “I’m the one who should be asking questions. Married, girl? Married! How did this happen?”
She was petite, but she filled the room with her joy, and just standing there, all I wanted to do was laugh.
Chastity swung around and pulled me closer. When I stepped to her side, I recognized the woman who’d been speaking.
She held out her hand to me. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m—”
“Melanie,” I finished.
Her eyebrows rose. “I made that much of an impression?”
I nodded, and, with my hands around Chastity’s waist, I said, “You did. Because if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have met my beautiful wife.”
She tilted her head. “Good answer,” she said, and I was sure, by her tone, she remembered the way I’d pursued her.
But although she was attractive, I would never have noticed her if I’d met Chastity first.
Melanie continued, “You are a smooth one. Almost as smooth as my man.” She reached for the guy behind her.
He chuckled, then hugged Chastity, and introduced himself as Melanie’s husband, Kelvin. Before any more words were spoken, Melanie and Chastity slid across the room, shrieking like schoolgirls, leaving me standing with this guy I didn’t know.
Except for Bryce, there was no one else I’d ever called a friend. New York had been pretty much like Mississippi. I’d been so used to isolation, it was a safe place for me. So I wasn’t even sure what I should say to Kelvin.
He said, “I guess congratulations are in order.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, let’s have a toast with some juice or something.” He chuckled, patted me on the back, and right away, I could tell why Melanie and Kelvin had married. His voice was filled with the same cheer as hers. He poured a glass of juice and then handed me the pitcher. “It happened pretty quickly, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah, it did,” I said and waited for signs of his judgment.
He said, “I hear you. I knew right away I wanted to marry Melanie, but I was a poor college student.” He shrugged and chuckled again. “Good for you.”
I relaxed as I grabbed one of the crystal glasses and filled it, then Kelvin and I sat at the opposite end, far away from our squealing wives.
“Chastity is really happy,” Kelvin said as we watched them.
That made me beam.
He continued, “I’ve known her since college. And she and Melanie have been besties since the womb, to hear them tell it.”
This time, I chuckled with him, and we fell into a rhythm. We talked about the New York sports teams first (a short conversation) and then moved to working out.
“Yeah, I haven’t been able to hang out there as much as I’d like ’cause I’ve been so busy at work, but Sweat Box is my go-to.”
“What?” Kelvin leaned back and laughed. “Are you trying to die? Those cats up there are serious. They box like they got issues.”
I laughed with him. “Yeah, but I love getting that kind of workout in.”
He shook his head and glanced at me with new respect. “That’s as bad as getting on the courts in the village.”
“I used to do that, too,” I said. “You know, I still got time to get that NBA contract.”
We cracked up so loud and for so long, our wives turned toward us, then strolled to where were sat.
“What’s so funny?” Chastity asked as she sat on the arm of the sofa.
“I don’t care what y’all are laughing about,” Melanie piped in. “It needs to stop now unless you bring us in on the joke.”
But before we could fill them in, our wives’ attention turned to the opening door. “Aunt Estelle,” Chastity and Melanie sang together.
After they hugged the woman with waist-long locs, she embraced Kelvin before she faced me.
The way she grinned, I had to do the same thing. “You must be Xavier.” She wrapped her arms around me. “Welcome to the family.”
Then, as she led us into the sanctuary, I once again marveled at all I’d received by making Chastity my wife. I’d wanted just one person, just Chastity, so that we could form a family. But my wife came with an extended support system. There were so many who wanted to include me, a feeling I’d never had before.
I was just so grateful, and so church was the perfect place for me to be right now.
34 Xavier
Greater Grace was already rocking, the praise team already rolling when the four of us strolled into the sanctuary. There was so much pomp for this circumstance—having us enter after the service had already started as if we were dignitaries.
A moment later, Mrs. Jeffries came through the same door, and as she passed, she kissed each of us—Kelvin, Melanie, Chastity—and it was only then I realized I was standing where Chastity should have been.
I said to her, “Change places so you can sit next to your mother.”
Before she could answer, Mrs. Jeffries said, “No, you stay right here, son,” as she grabbed my hand.
For a moment, I felt awkward, but then in seconds, I relaxed into her grasp. When she released me so she could raise her hands in praise, I wanted to grab her back. But while she worshipped and Chastity did the same, I stood with my hands at my sides, even as a part of me wanted to do what my wife and her mother were doing. I wanted to give that kind of thanks.
The praise team sang, the congregation danced—it was a Sunday-morning celebration. When another door opened and Pastor Jeffries came through, I expected him to enter bobbing his head, the way he had the last time I was here.
But as the people partied around him, Pastor Jeffries eased down into the pastor’s chair, pressing his hands together as if he was praying. His eyes were open, though, and at the end of the song, he nodded toward the ministe
r of music. With a final chord on the keyboard, the celebration ended. There were murmurs throughout as the praise team moved to the choir stand, and then the church became quiet. No one moved for so long I wondered if something was wrong. Next to me, Mrs. Jeffries sat with her head bowed as if she was in prayer herself.
By the time Pastor Jeffries stood, the atmosphere had shifted from celebratory to solemn. He lifted his giant Bible and then moved in a manner that matched the mood he’d set.
“My spirit is stirred this morning, church.”
There were more murmurs.
“It’s been this way for the last few days.”
Chastity shifted next to me, and when she reached for my hand, I wondered if she knew what her father was talking about. Was he solemn because of us?
I remembered his call on Thursday. He apologized, then said he wanted to move forward, have a reset. We didn’t talk long—I had a meeting—but he’d sounded sincere. Was this another setup?
Pastor Jeffries continued, “I had some very good news this week that I wanted to share.” He glanced to where we sat, and his lips twitched into a slight smile. “But I’m afraid that on this morning, I have to get straight to the message. I can’t hold back any longer.”
Now I was like everyone else, shifting to find a comfortable place.
“We’ve been talking about the seven deadly sins, and today we need to talk about wrath. I was really surprised when this subject stirred me so. Because, you see, I know folks who are envious and folks who are greedy, and everyone sitting within the sound of my voice knows of my own past personal struggle with lust.”
“Amen!”
“I am not ashamed of the truth,” the pastor said.
“Tell the truth, shame the devil,” someone shouted out from the other side.
Pastor Jeffries nodded. “But I can’t say I’ve come across too many people who struggle with the sin of wrath.” He paused and glanced out into the sanctuary. “Because wrath is not even a word we use very much in today’s lexicon, right?”
The congregation agreed with their mutters.
“So, to begin, let’s define wrath. I’m going to start with words we know, like anger. Anger is a strong feeling of displeasure, even hostility, toward someone or something, and when anger is taken up a notch it becomes rage. Rage is anger that is combined with action.” He interlocked his fingers. “And the action is usually something that satisfies that strong urge to harm that rage brings. Now, that’s bad, because you’ve moved from an internal feeling to expressing anger with action to harm.”
He held up his finger. “But wrath?” He paused. “As the kids would say, that’s leveling up. The dictionary says wrath is extreme anger, extreme rage. And it’s the adjective of extreme that has stirred me so. Because if you already want to harm someone with rage… what is the extreme action that goes beyond rage? What kind of harm comes with wrath?”
Now, the people mumbled, but my eyes stayed on Pastor Jeffries. Chastity told me she hadn’t discussed my… issues… with her father—and I believed her. So he couldn’t be talking about me… and Tuesday night.
He said, “It doesn’t take a genius to figure this out, church. Wrath is extreme anger that carries the energy of violence and vengeance.” Those words hung in the air before he kept on, “Now, how does one get from anger to wrath? Because, like I said, it does begin with anger. But it’s an escalating feeling of anger to the point of uncontrollable action. It’s surging anger that takes you to the violence. Wrath does damage; wrath leaves wreckage.”
I twisted my neck, loosened my tie, straightened my pant legs.
“Let’s look at Proverbs nineteen-nineteen.” Next to me, Chastity opened her Bible on her phone, but I didn’t have one of those apps. Mrs. Jeffries offered me her Bible, and although I felt so uncomfortable that I wanted to get up, I read with her as Pastor Jeffries did the same: “ ‘A man of great wrath will suffer punishment.’ ” He paused and everyone in the congregation looked up. “Oh, there’s more, but I can stop right there. Because this is the Lord talking about punishment. This is not the punishment that comes from man. But let’s read on.” He continued, “ ‘For if you rescue him, you will have to do it again.’ ” He slammed his Bible shut, startling everyone. Then he paced across the altar, stopping on the right side. “Here’s the thing. Anger is a human emotion. That’s why throughout the Bible, God teaches the appropriate way for us to handle our anger. He teaches that it’s going to come, but it must be controlled. It’s going to happen, but it must not last.”
My eyes followed Pastor Jeffries as he took long strides to the other side of the altar:
“But when God talks about wrath, He gives no instructions. He speaks only about the suffering that will come as punishment for the wrathful man.”
“Amen,” someone shouted out.
Pastor Jeffries kept on, “And because wrath is the extreme of anger, the Lord is warning that anyone who goes to that extreme is a person who will do it again and again and again.”
“Whew,” Melanie shouted out.
“But the warning in the Word is not only for that person filled with wrath. The warning”—he paused—“is for you.” His voice began to rise with each word. “Because when I began to study the scripture in all the translations, when the Lord talks about having to rescue that person again and again and again, I came to realize…”
Once again, Pastor Jeffries paced, until now he stood in the center of the altar. This time, though, he stepped down and stood right in front of us, though his eyes looked out into the congregation.
“If you find yourself with a wrathful person, this is what that scripture is saying: You cannot save a wrathful man from the consequences of his intemperance. You may do it once, you may do it twice. But if that man is unchanged, all of your efforts will be useless, and the help you have given will only make him believe that he can continue to indulge his wrath with impunity.”
Still standing in front of us, Pastor Jeffries pressed his hands together as if he was praying. His eyes closed, and I never knew two thousand people in one place could be so silent.
His eyes were still closed when he said, “This is the part of my study that stirred me so much.” His voice was so low, even though he was just standing a few feet away, I had to strain to hear him. “Today, I’m not talking to the wrathful man; it’s the brother or the sister in Christ who tries to rescue him whom I want to reach. Because what I know today is that after you rescue and rescue and rescue, there will come a time”—Pastor Jeffries opened his eyes and stared straight at us—“when the wrathful man you’re trying to save will turn his wrath on you.”
It felt as if the entire congregation inhaled at once. Everyone except for me. I had already been holding my breath. Now it felt like I was melting under the heat of his stare, and I didn’t exhale until he turned to return to the altar. With my handkerchief, I wiped my brow.
Mrs. Jeffries patted my arm. “Are you okay? It is a little hot in here.”
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, “he gets everyone worked up. He’s good, huh?”
Her words made me smile for one reason—if her husband hadn’t told her the message was for me, then it wasn’t.
He was back at the altar when he began again: “According to the Bible, there is only room for His wrath. That is reserved for the Lord because in His infinite wisdom He knows what to do with it. We do not.”
From the pulpit, Pastor Jeffries held out his hand. “Someone in this place is suffering from this. Do not be dismayed; do not be embarrassed. There is hope; come, let me pray with you.”
I was grateful he didn’t gesture toward me. His eyes were on the couple of guys who walked down the aisle toward him.
As they lowered themselves on the kneeling bench, Pastor Jeffries said, “Anyone else? I feel as if there is someone chained to their seat.”
I felt a nudge, but not from Chastity. It came from inside, but I didn’t m
ove. I just bowed my head, rewinding the pastor’s words, matching what he’d said with how I felt at times. I did get angry, but it wasn’t to the extreme. I’d never been punished… had I?
Still, I wondered if this was about me. That was the question in my mind until I looked up. And Pastor Jeffries was glaring straight at me.
35 Xavier
But when God talks about wrath, He talks about the suffering that will come from the punishment of being a wrathful man.
Pastor Jeffries’s words echoed in my mind. Those words and his stare had me twisted. What did he see when he looked at me? And now what would he say at dinner?
In the background, I heard Chastity and Melanie still chatting. Kelvin had been called to Harlem Hospital, where he worked, so the two of them were in the back of the Uber while I sat in the front passenger seat, my eyes trained on the outside, my mind scrolling through the sermon.
“Babe,” I heard Chastity say, “we’re here.”
I had to blink to bring myself back. Chastity and Melanie had already slid out, and the driver was glancing at me with a frown.
When I finally jumped out, Chastity took my hand. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, was just thinking about some things.”
“Well, I hope you let work go for a few hours. I really want to hang out with Melanie and Kelvin after we leave here.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m good,” I said, although I wasn’t. The truth: I didn’t want to face her father.
But I took my wife’s hand and we trotted up the brownstone’s steps. Before we reached the top, Mrs. Jeffries opened the door as if she’d been waiting.
“You’re missing one,” she said as we stepped into the parlor. With a sigh, she added, “Don’t tell me, Kelvin was called to work.”
“He was, Mama Sisley, but he’s going to meet up with us later.”
“Well, I’m getting dinner together, so Xavier, come with me,” she said, though I didn’t understand. What about Chastity and Melanie?
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