On Zion's Hill

by Anna J. Small Roseboro

  “Yeah, well pretending takes a lot of energy. But I was a gentleman with you, Angie. I wasn’t making moves on you.”

  “Right, Randy! What do you call all that brushing, bumping, and watching me like I am a hooker and you wanted to be my next customer? Really, Randy, you undressed me with your eyes,” she grimaced and shuddered.

  “Really?”

  “Really. I even asked your mom to let me work outside.”

  “You’re kidding?

  “No, I’m serious. You were making me real uncomfortable in here. If I didn’t need the money for school next week, I probably wouldn’t have come to work today.”

  Almost back to his old self, Randy quips, “You’re joshing me, right? I wasn’t that bad, was I? I know you’re a hot mama, and I’ve been drawn to the flame.”

  Angie smiles shyly, feeling good that someone thinks she’s hot. She nods. “Yes, you were.”

  “I didn’t know I was coming on that strong. I like to let sexy ladies know I notice. That’s just me. Well……” he quietly confesses.……. “It was me until last night,”

  “What happened last night?”

  “It was something Reverend Clarkson said. You know, about respecting women and treating them like we want guys to treat our mothers or sisters.” Randy stops, stands straight, reaches towards his pocket, clenches his fist, then asserts, “I’dda had my switchblade out in a New York minute if I seen a guy treatin’ my sister the way I been….been treatin’ girls …this year.” Randy ends softly, retreating like a turtle into its shell.

  “What do mean?” Angie says equally softly, to draw him back out.

  He turns aside so Angie can no longer see his face. “I made some really bad moves this past year.”

  “And…”

  “Then some stupid decisions afterwards.”

  “Yeah, and…”

  “And I had to crawl back to my parents for help.”

  “And…”

  “And, thankfully they came through for me. Angie…

  “Yes?”

  “I got a girl pregnant!” Randy spurts.

  “Randy!”

  “And then tried to force her to get an abortion.”

  He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly as though by verbalizing his sin, he is cleansed.

  “And…”

  “And, what? They talked me out of it. Said it was her decision to sleep with me, and getting pregnant was the result. She has to live with her decision.”

  “They did what? That is so cold. Making the girl carry the burden for something you probably forced her into doing,” Angie retorts judgmentally.

  “Yeah, but that isn’t all.”

  “I should hope not. Not from Christian parents anyway. It takes two to tangle.”

  “That’s two to tango, Angie,” he chuckles, relieved that he’s unloaded and can now challenge her vocabulary choice.

  “No, Randy. I did mean tangle. You have a responsibility in all this, you know.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Angie. My parents made me commit to taking care of the baby. They sent me a check for the doctor. My parents say, “’You gotta be there for her even if you don’t want to marry her. It’s your child’.”

  “That is so right. Your parents reminding you like Christians ought.”

  “Yeah, they did. They give me the money, and I went with Linda, that’s her name. I went with Linda to the doctor, like my dad told me to do. But…” He clams up again.

  “But what? Did she decide on the abortion instead?”

  “No, Angie. That’s not it.

  “Well?”

  “Linda lost the baby.”

  “Oh, Randy. I’m sorry.”

  “Just two weeks after that appointment confirming the pregnancy.”

  “That must have been hard on you all.”

  “Not really. I was glad.”

  “Randy! Shame on you!”

  “I stopped seeing Linda, and she dropped out of college. She lives in Missouri, so I’ll probably never see her again.”

  “Randy!”

  “When she went home, I thought I was saved for real. Saved from life as a too young father.”

  “Oh, how could you?”

  “We hadn’t told anyone at school about her being pregnant, so I was home free. Until last night.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “When Reverend Clarkson was preaching, I thought I was just caught up in his gallivanting across the rostrum. You know, getting off on his show, not realizing the Word was slicing into me, like a two-edged sword.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “It slowly shaved off the shell I’d let grow around my heart. The Word made me see that the baby may be gone, but not my sin. Not till I confess it and begin to live the way I know I ought to be living as a Christian.”

  Angie nods, looks up to see if they’ve missed seeing a customer, sees none, and signals Randy to continue.

  “The thing is, Angie. I don’t know if that means I’m supposed to look up Linda and apologize, you know, and try to make it up to her somehow.”

  Angie shrugs, not sure what to say, but feeling inclined to keep that to herself.

  “Yes,” Randy declares. “I was one of the hundreds at the altar last night. That’s why I was so late getting back here. I been thinking about it all night.”

  “And…”

  “What you think, Angie? You believe I ought to call Linda? You a girl. Would you take a call from a guy who got you pregnant and then cut you off after you lost his baby?”

  “Randy, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that since I heard about the baby. I was wondering if you’d mention it.”

  “What?” he exclaims sharply, spinning around, looking to see if anyone else had heard his confession. “How you know? Do everybody here know about the baby?” He stomps in indignation.

  Randy rants, “That’s what I’m talking about. Moms probably asked somebody at church to be praying for me. And one of her bigmouth friends told everybody! You know, Angie. It scurrilous! Finally can use that vocab word! It’s awful how the so-called Saints gossip!”

  “That may be the case. You know there’s a grapevine up here on Zion’s Hill. When I heard that about you, I didn’t want to work in here with you. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been shying away from you. I didn’t want to be the next.”

  “Hmmmm. That may be why I been getting the cold shoulder from some of the other girls.”

  “I’m not all that surprised, you know. None of the other girls want to be the next, either.”

  “The guys haven’t even been all that welcoming this time either. I know a lot of guys up here, and nobody said nothing to me other than, ‘Hey, man. How you doing?’

  “Are you really surprised?”

  “Maybe that explains why they didn’t stay around for an answer. None of them asked me to play ball or nothing. I just thought maybe they’re grown up now and not playing up here no more. You do see more of the young guys down there on the courts,” Randy rationalizes.

  “What you expect, Randy? The guys probably are both jealous and afraid. They certainly don’t want you coming on to their sisters, either.” Angie tilts her head, lifts her shoulders and raises upturned palms. “See, Reverend Clarkson is right. Your sins will find you out.”

  “Yeah, but what about forgiveness?” Randy huffs in exasperation. “Nobody asked me if the gossip is true. And even it is, I didn’t do nothing to none of them. It’s Linda I got to talk to.”

  “Randy. I think you’ve answered your own question. It is Linda you have to talk to. You know, if you’ve confessed your sin to God, He already has forgiven you. Some place in the Bible says if we know we’ve hurt somebody, we’re to go to that person and ask forgiveness before coming to God in prayer. I don’t think that means He won’t answer your prayers for courage to do what you know must be done.”

  “You think Linda will talk to me after what I done to her?” Randy asks with remorse.
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br />   “I don’t know. But you’ve got to make the effort to reconcile with her.”

  Randy shakes his head.

  “You could wait until Monday to give her a call. Attend the services tonight. There may be a Word for you. Something in the sermon may help you follow through on what seems to be the leading of the Lord.”

  Randy nods his head, glad for a short reprieve.

  “In the meantime, you can depend on me to be praying for you. I know your parents are doing the same. That may be why they forced you to come up there this year. To hear the Word and to be in a setting where you can consider your actions and gain the confidence to do something about it.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like my parents all right. I do owe them, too. I didn’t have money for the doctor. And I was feeling pretty bad about getting Linda pregnant. I was thinking I just shoulda been more careful. You know me, get away with what I can.” Randy says, sheepishly.

  Angie shakes her head. “You’re pitiful, Randy:”

  “That’s the old me, Angie. I’m really going to try to do the right thing.” Then, he stands up straighter. “Yeah, I’ll call Linda on Monday. I hope she still got the same phone number. Maybe I can just send her a letter and ask her to call me.”

  “Randy, you pray about this and do what the Lord tells you to do. And, don’t expect her to be as merciful as God is. Even if she’s a Christian, she may not be ready to forgive you.”

  Randy crumples. “Really?”

  “Don’t let that you stop you, though. Apologizing is your part. Granting forgiveness is up to her.”

  “You think she still gonna be mad at me? We just got carried away at a party. That’s all it was. The weakness of an instant. I was there for her when she was pregnant. We weren’t really going steady or anything.”

  “Steady or not steady. You two had sex and she got pregnant. She lost the baby and went home. According to you, you haven’t apologized or anything. You’ve got work to do, Brother Randy.”

  “Okay, Sister Angie.” He smiles. “I mean it, Sister.”

  She returns the smile.

  “Okay. I’m feeling a little better now. I’ll admit, I also feel a little nervous. You know, I’m not the kind of guy to go crawling back to no girl about anything. I got my pride, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. And, you know that pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. If you don’t get down off your high horse and accept that you are a new creature in Christ Jesus who has the courage to do the right thing, you’re not going to be growing much in the Lord. You’ll find yourself falling back into the same temptation and sin that got you into this mess in the first place.”

  “Okay, Reverend Angie. I got the message. Here comes another group of gigglers. Let’s get back to work. And yes, I’ll try to make things right with Linda.”

  SENDING UP A PRAYER FOR RANDY, Angie grabs her Bible and gets back over to the tabernacle in time. She’s curious. Will the Reverend Doctor Matthew Jamieson live up to his reputation and deliver a well-crafted sermon that feeds the hearts and souls of young and old? Once inside, she disciplines herself to stay attentive. Tonight, the message may be for her.

  Following a jubilant time of praise and worship led by the Youth Choir and reinforced by the soul-stirring music of a youth quartet from Columbus, their pastor, Reverend Dickerson walks to the podium and introduces the speaker of the evening.

  “We just so thankful that we have talent like yours with us here on Zion’s Hill. We just know the Brothers and Sisters of Love that started this camp meeting are rejoicing in heaven. Hallelujah! Jesus, we are truly thankful.” With one hand waving in the air, Reverend Dickerson does a little skip and shout, then pivots back to the podium, ready to proceed.

  “Brothers and Sisters, did not our hearts burn within us as our young folks sang this evening? Please, can you give it up for our choir and quartet? Let’s have a round of applause. Young people,” he reminds them, “this ain’t for you. We giving glory to God.”

  Most of the congregation stand, cheer and clap. After all, it is Youth Night, and some of the strictures are waived for the evening. They sit quickly when Reverend Dickerson gestures with palms turned down.

  “We’re so thankful young folks have a place on the program every year. We’ve dedicated ourselves to the Lord so He can use us to tell the gospel story. We know the seasoned Saints will be praying that we also live the life we sing in them songs. Right choir?” The youth in the choir standing behind him squirm a bit, but acquiesce and nod.

  “You young folks in the audience. We not leaving you out. We praying for all y’all. We know it ain’t easy to live the life you hear about from the pulpit or read about in the Bible. It ain’t easy, but it’s possible. With the help of the Lord. Am I right grown-ups? Am I right?”

  Thunderous replies of “Amens” and “You right” roll across the tabernacle, and again some folks stand and clap. This time, not for the singing, but in affirmation of the words of this minister.

  The young folks are not sure if the old folks are agreeing with the fact that living right is hard or that the Word makes it possible. It doesn’t really matter, though. Somehow this Spirit-filled demonstration preceding the sermon gets them in the frame of mind to attend to whatever Doctor Jamieson will have to say.

  “Brothers and Sisters. This is the last evening service of our 1963 camp meeting, and it is only fitting that we have our young people leading our worship service. Contrary to what some folks say, the youth are not the future; youth are the present.”

  “You right, Brother. You right,” comes back in the traditional call and response of colored congregations.

  “If we don’t come to the Lord when we’re young and hear some sound teaching and get some loving guidance and support right now, we’ll be in no condition to lead in the future.”

  “Ain’t that the honest to God truth!”

  “We’ll be too weak and malnourished. We won’t have strong, muscular faith that only comes from the experience of trusting in the Lord year after year after year. Am I right?”

  “You right, Brother. You sho is right!”

  “Brothers and Sisters. That’s the reason the program committee picked Doctor. Jamieson to be our speaker for Youth Day. You all know him well. You know he was raised in a strong Christian household. He made his decision for the Lord when he was a teenager, and he’s been on the battlefield ever since. This man of God is a trained musician, and I know he enjoyed the fine music we heard here tonight.”

  Reverend Dickerson turns and looks at the speaker for the evening and then back to the microphone when Doctor Jamieson nods in agreement. “He even studied for a while over in Europe. But when he come back, he went to college and then on to seminary. He’s now a member of the faculty where he graduated. This summer, he been helping organize with Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. . Yes, and will be with him in Washington, D.C. at the end of the month. Some of y’all be there, too. Am I right?”

  “You sho is right about that, Brother. We going for shore!”

  “But it’s not his musical ability, his academic credentials, or even his civil rights involvement that convinced us to invite him to speak tonight. No, Brothers and Sisters. We invited Doctor Jamieson because he’s a man who tells it like it is. He believes the Bible is the Word of God. It is that Word that leads to life and life more abundantly. That’s what we young folk need to hear. That’s what we all need to hear. So let’s get to it. I give you, the Reverend Doctor Matthew Jamieson, our esteemed speaker for the evening.”

  Doctor Jamieson rises and remains at the high-backed speaker’s chair until Reverend Dickerson returns to his seat. During this dramatic pause, a hush ripples across the tabernacle. Adults sit up in eager anticipation. Children stop squirming. Teens and tweens in the balcony look up to see what they’re missing.

  The preacher of the hour glides to the podium, lays down his folder, and opens his manuscript to the first page. He looks up, panning the listeners in
the lazy eight. He makes eye contacts in the center section of the tabernacle, sweeps up listening eyes on the right, reconnects in the center, sweeps up the eyes on the left, and circles back and forth across the tabernacle until all eyes are gathered into his.

  He raises his arms, inviting them to stand. They do. He bows his head. They bow theirs. He closes his eyes. They do not. They don’t want to lose the connection he’s established so dramatically. Silence reigns as the Holy Spirit quietly infuses Doctor Jamieson and Shekinah glory flows back over the choir stand, rolls onto ministers on the rostrum, out across the waiting congregation, and back to the no longer disconnected teens in the back and up in the balcony. All lean forward, expectant, for what is to come.

  His rich mellow voice intones, “God, our Gracious Heavenly Father, Jesus our Beloved Brother and Savior, and Holy Spirit, our Constant Friend and Precious Comforter, we thank You for making Your presence felt in our midst tonight. We thank You for the songs we’ve sung and the songs we’ve heard sung. We thank You for the generous offering that has been given in support of the ministry here on Zion’s Hill. Now, Precious Trinity, we humbly invite You to work through me as I share the Word You have laid on my heart. Open my mouth to speak and their ears to hear. We ask all this in Jesus’ Name. Amen. ……Please be seated.” They sit.

  Their eyes remain on the minister as though connected by a beam of love. Yes, he reads his sermon from a manuscript. No, he does not prance and prate. He simply delivers the unadorned Word of God. In just a few seconds over thirty minutes, he signals the organist to begin “Just As I Am,” and with raised, outstretched arms, he summons waiting souls to the altar.

  Like last night, hundreds respond, quietly, pensively, drawn to make a commitment or to recommit themselves to the Lord they heard about in the sermon. By eight-thirty, they’re singing the benediction, “Blest Be the Ties that Bind,” with such love and awe that few people even realize that the service has ended. They egress with such reverence that Reverend Dickerson hesitates to step up to the mike, reluctant, but required to remind them of the special, long awaited concert. It’s to begin in half an hour, so he invites them to remain in the sanctuary if they like.