Crossroads

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  “Skipping down to the thirty-second verse, it reads, ‘And He looked around to see her who had done this thing. But the woman, fearing and trembling, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell down before Him and told Him the whole truth. And He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your affliction.’”

  When the prophetess had concluded the last verse, she looked out at the women.

  “Look at your neighbor and say ‘Neighbor.’”

  The women obeyed, “Neighbor.”

  “Whatever your issue is…”

  “Whatever your issue is…” the women repeated.

  “Can be made well if you touch Jesus.”

  “Can be made well if you touch Jesus,” the women echoed.

  “All right now…you better preach,” one of the women encouraged her.

  “You may be seated, but while you’re going down, look at your neighbor on the other side and say, ‘I didn’t say touch Jesse, Jack, John John, or Junebug. I said touch Jesus.’”

  The women stood back up and applauded her. “You’re sayin’ something…go ahead.”

  “In this particular passage of scripture, Mark talks about a woman who had been hemorrhaging nonstop for twelve years. She had gone to see many doctors who tried to heal her but couldn’t. In fact, verse twenty-five says that after she’d seen the doctors, her problem had gotten worse and her funds were depleted while seeking health care.

  “I’m reminded of a time when a young lady approached me and confessed that she was addicted to sex. She said, ‘Prophetess, I don’t understand why I’m like this, but I think about sex all the time and I just gotta have it.’

  “I looked at her beautiful face and asked what she meant by she ‘just gotta have it.’ She said, ‘Prophetess I-II just can’t help it. Guys call and ask if they can come over and watch a movie, and before I know it, we end up in the bed.’

  “So I said, ‘Why not go to the theater to see a movie? Why do you have to be at your house?’ She answered, ‘’Cause it’s more intimate at the house, plus they give me things.’

  “Then I asked her what kinds of things men give, and she said that they may pay her rent or car note, and from time to time, they’ll give her cash. She said, ‘Prophetess, I try to stay away from sex. I wrote to Dear Abby’s advice column, I’ve even gone to see a shrink to get hypnotized to find out if there’s something in my past that’s making me do this. Finally, I talked to a sex therapist and called a psychic hotline, and they all said the same thing: that I’m hot-blooded, and it must be in my genes.’

  “I asked her what happened when men come to her empty-handed and she boldly said, ‘Look, I’m high maintenance. I don’t come cheap and all of my men know that if I can’t get my rent paid or at least my hair and nails done, they don’t get none.’

  “I explained to this young lady that she’s prostituting her body, and she said, ‘Oh, no, Prophetess, I don’t have sex all the time. Only when they give me stuff.’

  “I grabbed the sister by her hand and shook her and told her that it wasn’t the sex that she was addicted to, but it was the money and gifts she received from men that caused the addiction.”

  The audience agreed. “That’s right…sho’ you right…teach the truth.”

  “She had an issue, and the only one who could heal and deliver her from sexual sin was Jesus. Even though she was a young lady who was born and raised in the church, she had no clue who God really was or what He represented in her life.”

  The women encouraged the prophetess. “Go on and teach…preach it…Break it down.”

  “It’s not revealed in the book of Mark what the woman’s name was, but I like to call her Flo, ’cause she had a nonstop flow of blood. Ladies, can you imagine what it would be like to have your menstrual cycle for twelve years, nonstop?”

  The women mumbled. “Uh-uh…I’d rather die than go through that.”

  “Some of us can hardly take the three, five, or seven days a month.”

  “You’re right about that, Prophetess…That’s sho’ ’nuff the truth,” the women agreed.

  “Then there are those who look forward to it. I’m talking about those of you who are doing what you ain’t got no business doing.”

  The women laughed but couldn’t help but to agree with her. “Amen…amen…Preach on.”

  “Listen, can I get real and raw with y’all tonight?”

  The women responded, “Go ahead and make it plain.”

  “We’re gonna get real and shame the devil in here. Is that all right?”

  “It’s all right…Tell us what we need to hear,” the women shouted.

  “There were times when I used to actually pray and beg God to send my period. I mean, down on my knees crying and moaning type of begging because I had one of those Momma’s that had her own calendar keeping up with my period. I didn’t have to count the days because my momma did it for me. If I told her that I was on my period, she’d want to see blood for herself. I’m telling y’all that my momma was from down South. She didn’t play. But one time I was late and panicked. I mean I panicked to the point where I made myself sick. I think I was about sixteen, and I wasn’t worried about God no more, I was worried about my momma. My prayers had gone from ‘Lord, please bring my period and I ain’t gonna do it no more,’ to ‘Lord, please let me die before my momma find out.’

  “I knew that if He didn’t kill me, my momma was going to. But back in the day, we could get these little white pills over the counter called HUMPHREYS 11. How many of y’all know about HUMPHREYS 11?”

  About five women out of two hundred raised their hands.

  “That’s all right, y’all ain’t got to tell the truth.”

  The women laughed, and about one hundred more raised their hands.

  “HUMPHREYS 11 was a pill that kept you from going to the abortion clinic. When I was sixteen I thought I was pregnant. I took about fifteen pills and passed out. I was rushed to the hospital and had to have my stomach pumped. It turned out that I had a blood clot in my uterus that wouldn’t let my period flow. That experience scared me to death, along with the beating my momma put on me so bad that I truly repented and asked God to cleanse me. I promised Him that I would never lay with a man again until I was married. Well, as you know, I’m not married, and I’m proud to stand here and testify that God made me whole, and I’ve been celibate for seventeen years, glory to God.”

  The women stood and applauded the prophetess. Her voice rose as she wiped her face. “And that’s what God wants you to do. He wants you to give Him your issue. Whatever it is, God can make it well.”

  The women were agreeing with the prophetess. “Hallelujah…Praise God…Amen…Amen.”

  “Verse twenty-seven says Flo heard that Jesus was in town, and she knew about His healing power, and she pressed her way to Him.” The prophetess looked out at the audience. “That’s what we gotta do when we need something from God. Flo had been afflicted for years, and no matter what she had to do or who she had to go through, she was gonna get to Jesus by any means necessary.

  “But before you give God your issue, you’ve got to get fed up with yourself. You don’t have to live in sin, you don’t have to remain backslidden, and you don’t have to live beneath your inheritance.”

  Every woman in the sanctuary was on her feet. “Glory to God…Hallelujah.”

  “I dare you to touch Jesus. He’s waiting on you to touch Him. Come on and press your way. He’s here, He’s here. Reach up and touch Him.”

  The women had their hands in the air and their heads thrown back, calling out to God.

  “That’s right. Tell God what you want Him to do for you. Open up your mouths and talk to God, and I promise you that if you tap into Him, He’ll immediately heal you. Whatever your issue is, give it to God.”

  Women were on their knees crying for forgiveness. Others were holding each other. Prophetess Anderson came out of the pulpit and stood in the front of the church.
She silently prayed and asked God for direction on what to do at that point.

  The Holy Spirit revealed what she was in the midst of. In the sanctuary was an usher who was pregnant by a married deacon, a seventeen-year-old girl who had been pregnant four times, but she was not a mother, a woman on the finance committee that stole at least fifty dollars from the offering basket every Sunday to support her dope habit, and two lesbians who were not saved and were guests of a member of the church. They had gotten married in Canada and were raising two young children together.

  As the Holy Spirit revealed, the prophetess moved. She walked and stood in front of Amaryllis, who sat next to Michelle and Bridgette on the front pew. She grabbed Amaryllis’s hand, pulled her from the pew on her feet, and looked at her. “Webster’s Dictionary defines the word ‘dirty’ as something being not clean or not pure. When something is dirty, it can become contaminated or even infectious. To be dirty means to be filthy, nasty, and of foul odor.

  “Webster’s defines the word ‘drain’ as something that causes depletion or a passageway to discharge or empty things.” So that Amaryllis wouldn’t be embarrassed at what she was going to say to her next, the prophetess stepped to her, then whispered in her ear. “Your private area is a dirty drain.”

  Amaryllis’s eyes bucked out of her head.

  “Many men have discharged their seeds into you. You wonder why every man that approaches you wastes no time saying what’s on his agenda. It’s because they can smell you. The scent of lustful sex is coming from your body, and it can be detected a mile away. Men are on you like a pack of hyenas on a dead carcass.”

  Tears streamed down Amaryllis’s face. She became so emotional at the words Prophetess Anderson was speaking to her.

  Amaryllis felt the prophetess’s lips on her lobe. “They can smell your dirty drain, and it attracts them your way. A lion marks his territory by urinating in a certain spot, and the odor carries. Your vagina has been marked with semen. You’re walking around with a sewer between your legs, and you stink.”

  Amaryllis buried her face in her hands and cried openly. The prophetess had spoken the absolute truth. It rained men wherever Amaryllis went. She just couldn’t keep them off of her.

  Michelle tried to console her sister by hugging her, but the prophetess told Michelle to step away and allow God to come in and do what had to be done. And Michelle knew that was exactly what her sister needed.

  Prophetess Anderson continued speaking to Amaryllis. “Vinegar and water is not the answer. The stench is embedded inside your walls, and only the blood of Jesus can cleanse you. You must touch Him and let Him heal you.”

  The woman of God left Amaryllis standing there crying and moved to Michelle.

  “You’ve lived a sheltered life. God says that in two months’ time, He’s going to test your faith. Repeat after me, ‘Faith ain’t fun, and favor ain’t fair.’”

  Michelle did as she was told, and the prophetess moved on to Bridgette. “Your tongue is your downfall. You don’t mind getting folks told. Last week you told a man to kiss your behind, and I’m putting it mildly. Not once, but twice you did that. I see file cabinets and computers. What type of work do you do?”

  Bridgette stood in shock because the woman hit the nail right on the head. “I’m a paralegal.”

  “You applied for a job six months ago, and it was looking promising until your mouth got in the way.”

  Bridgette fell to her knees, crying and repenting before God. As the prophetess moved on, she looked at Cookie. “First Lady, I hope you’ll have me back next year.”

  All of the women knew that Prophetess Michellene Anderson was a powerful woman of God, and she could see straight through a person.

  She stood in front of the dope addict. “Stretch out your arms, daughter.”

  The prophetess saw what looked like mosquito bites covering the entire inside of the woman’s arms. She summoned for a bottle of holy oil and squeezed drops on the woman’s arms and massaged it into her skin. “This oil represents the blood of Jesus. With His blood, He has sealed every hole in your arm.”

  The woman began clapping and thanking God for deliverance. Prophetess Anderson moved on and looked at all the women and saw how they were looking at the drug addict.

  “You all are turning your noses up at her like she’s the only one here with issues, but hold on, because I’m knocking on your door next.”

  She got to the pregnant woman and stood in front of her. “What’s your name, daughter?”

  The woman was already crying and couldn’t answer. Prophetess Anderson embraced her and asked her again, and this time, the distraught woman whispered, “Chloe.”

  “What trimester are you in?”

  Chloe’s eyebrows raised in fear. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  “Yes, but how did you know?” Her belly hadn’t begun to show as of yet.

  “The Holy Spirit revealed it to me, and the father of your child is married and has been for eleven years.”

  Chloe started crying loudly.

  “The man’s wife is a friend of your mother. Am I right, daughter?”

  Chloe was devastated, and the only thing she could do was to cry out for forgiveness.

  Prophetess Anderson left the weeping woman and walked to the seventeen-year-old. Immediately the girl started screaming. “I’m sorry, Lord, oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Jesus.”

  Because the Holy Spirit doesn’t bring embarrassment or shame, the prophetess whispered in the teenager’s ear. “The last vacuum that entered your body inhaled your entire uterus. You’re not even eighteen years old and already your womb has been sold to the devil.”

  The girl’s mother standing next to her held her daughter tightly, and the prophetess looked at her. “You are a single mother who works two jobs, and that has to change. Your daughter needs you to be home at night.”

  Prophetess Anderson moved on to another woman. The woman arrogantly looked at the prophetess and boldly spoke to her. “Before you say anything to me, let me tell you that I’m not pregnant, on drugs, I don’t curse, I don’t have a man, nor am I messing around with anyone else’s man, so you can just move on to the next person.”

  Prophetess Anderson disregarded the young woman’s disrespectful attitude and smiled. She lifted the woman’s left hand and studied it but saw no ring. “You are a beautiful woman, and I see that you’re not married.”

  The young woman folded her arms across her chest and shifted all of her weight onto one leg. She cocked her head to the side, giving off even more attitude. “No, I’m not.”

  “But you’re sexually active.”

  The woman’s eyes grew wide, and she raised her voice at the prophetess. “See, I knew you were a fake. I told you that I don’t have a man.”

  The prophetess stepped to her and whispered in her ear. “Sweetheart, if I looked in a black box on the top shelf in the rear of your closet, how many types of sexual toys would I see?”

  The young woman was embarrassed and speechless.

  “Masturbation is an abomination against the body. No one is a professional saint,” the prophetess whispered.

  Prophetess Anderson moved on. She was getting too close for comfort to the lesbian couple. When she got within five feet of them, they excused themselves and hurried out of the sanctuary.

  The Holy Spirit led the prophetess to the rear of the church. She came and stood in front of a woman who was crying. The prophetess studied her face and saw through her makeup and noticed a black-and-blue eye, a semi-swollen jaw, and the busted lip that the ruby red lipstick couldn’t hide.

  “Get out while you still can. He doesn’t love you. If you stay, you’ll be dead within five months. There is a better life for you.”

  The woman didn’t say a word.

  “Get out while the getting is good. I know he apologizes, but I promise you that the last time wasn’t the last time, and it will only get worse. The very next time he puts his ha
nds on you, it will cost you your life.”

  The woman fell to her knees and cried out to God. Prophetess Anderson called for the first lady to assist her. “Cookie, come and embrace this woman.”

  The prophetess made her way back into the pulpit and looked at the congregation. Women were lying all over the sanctuary floor. Heads were thrown back and mouths were opened and hands were lifted in the air. Through their praises, Prophetess Anderson spoke to them. “We as women of God must become ladies of God. Any female can say that she’s a woman of God, but it takes a special kind of anointing to make you a lady. Ladies of God don’t speak in tongues and cuss out of the same mouth. Ladies of God don’t chase after a man. God said that it’s a man who finds his wife not the other way around. Ladies of God are immaculate all the time. Ladies of God have their toenails painted when they’re wearing sandals. And a true lady makes sure that her fingernail and toenail polish match. A lady doesn’t wear an outfit that’s two sizes too small.”

  The women were applauding the prophetess. “That’s right…Speak the truth.”

  “A lady doesn’t accept booty calls. A lady doesn’t leave the nightclub at five A.M., then go home to get her Bible and go straight to Sunday School. A lady doesn’t raise her arms and allow everyone to see hair with caked-up balls of deodorant. Shave that stuff off. That ain’t cute.”

  “All right, Prophetess…Teach it…Say that, say that,” the women responded to her.

  “A lady doesn’t wear pants everywhere she goes. Put on a dress from time to time. Take that cap off your head and let your hair down. You’re wondering why men won’t approach you. It’s because they think you’re one of them.”