by Belvin, Love
“My God…” I muttered, stunned by the news.
Trent is about to resume his life!
“Ez, man, you know—” His voice cracked and he took a breath, fortifying himself. “Last spring you preached about miracles and how in this age we’re not being taught to call on God for the impossible. You said He’s the same God that performed miracles for Moses in parting the Red Sea, permitting Peter to walk on water, and raising Lazarus from the dead. That’s the same God I’ve been petitioning for life after the shi—the storm,” he corrected himself, “I’ve been through. The same One I’ve been begging for forgiveness from. So, I’ve been fasting once a week since then for Him to show His hand in my life in any way. I would love to get back in the league, but even if He were to move in another area of need, I would’ve been content with that. But this…” he couldn’t speak, nostrils widening as he fought back tears.
I pulled an envelope from my breast pocket and placed it on the table before him.
“This is not a loan. Neither is it an investment or charity. It is me planting a seed in you that shall grow and prosper. It is me petitioning God to complete that thing which was started in you before your life was interrupted. It is an act of filling in the gap for you, Trent,” I pleaded evenly.
He snorted as he shook his head. “Ezra, no one would ever believe how real you are, man. No one, unless they’ve been as low and broken as I’ve been, could ever know the depth of your faith. My homies, still in the league, haven’t looked out for me like you have. I can’t keep taking your money, bruh.”
“And you can’t block my blessings either. Those property taxes in Alpine are astronomical. Trust me, I know. Stenton and I talk. Here’s ten. You know if you need anything within my means, I’ll have your back. And if it’s outside of my reach, I’ll call on a miracle, all for your faith in Him to remain.”
“Ezra…,” he tried.
I extended my arms across the table for his. “Let us pray on this development.” Within seconds, Trent met my hands and I began. “Father, we bless You for the insight You’ve so graciously bestowed. You didn’t have to share with us the miracle at Your hand concerning Trent, but You did. You said when two or three are gathered in Your name…”
When I pulled into the parking lot of RSfALC, I noticed Thaddeus leaning against the truck. His hands were tucked in his pockets and head burrowed into his chest. I could discern his mood immediately. I parked and got out to meet him.
“Minister Brown,” I greeted formally.
“Pastor.” He shook my hand. “You look well, sir.”
“Thank you. I believe I am.” Now.
He was unhurried. “Do you need to go inside for anything?”
“No. I’m running a few minutes later than I planned. I’d rather get this prayer brunch done so I can get back home.”
As I turned for the truck, I thought about Alexis and wondered how her interview went. How ironic would it have been if she actually got this one? Lord, work it out.
“Sir,” Thaddeus croaked behind me, voice wavering. “I…uhhh…need to talk to you about something.
I glanced down at my watch and saw we had a few minutes to spare.
“What can I do for you, Thaddeus?” I asked as I joined him again.
“Sir, Miranda and I are no longer engaged,” he began. I’d heard about it a few weeks back, so long ago that the news didn’t come as a surprise. I told Precious I’d wait for him to address it with me. “I’ve been waiting to tell you.”
“I see. Well, was it amicable?” That could be the reason for his lingering anxiety while speaking about this.
“Not at first, but I’ve been firm.”
My face stretched and I pivoted to face him. “Firm? So, it was your call?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What brought this about?”
This whole ordeal with Miranda had always concerned me. I never liked their union, but wouldn’t dare breathe a word of discouragement to him. Each man has his own reason for pursuing his woman. It was a personal decision. However, in his case, Miranda chose Thaddeus and for less than noble reasons.
“Well, Pastor,” he muttered while he regarded his fumbling fingers at his waist. “It’s something I’ve been struggling with for some time. I’d begun to think Miranda wasn’t the woman I believed God is calling for my life.”
I snorted. I see I have more training to do on the role of the wife to a man of clergy and what role God plays in her selection.
“Thaddeus, unless God specifically gave you instruction on carefully selecting a wife, I think it’s safe to say that you broke things off with her for the same reason you chose her: it was by your desires alone.” When he didn’t give a rebuttal I continued. “I’m not disappointed if that is your concern. Neither did I feel she was a great selection.”
“Your opinion would’ve been appreciated, sir,” he mumbled, but his forehead wrinkled and eyes were hard. “But there’s more. There’s a woman in RSfALC named Lillian. She’s friends with—”
“My wife. Yes, I am aware of who Sister Lillian is. She was a member of my wedding party, Thaddeus.”
“Oh, yes she was, sir.” He licked his lips further displaying his nervousness. “Well, I would like to marry her…and she wants the same.”
What?
I took a deep breath, winning a moment to gather my words before delivering them. I wasn’t angry, just baffled and shocked. “Minister Brown, you do know that here at Redeeming Souls for Abundant Living in Christ, we are not in the business of marrying off all of our adult population, don’t you?”
He pushed his frames up his face. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“And you are aware that includes our clergy staff, correct?”
“I am aware, sir.”
“So, what’s this emergent aspiration for marriage that you cannot quell? Is there something I’ve said, the Bishop…or one of the elders over the years…that would give you the impression that marriage is required to serve or to simply to be content in life?”
“No, sir.”
I shifted in my stance, with it another revelation. “Or is it that you’d like to relieve yourself as my armor bearer? If this is the case, sir, we can arrange for—”
“It is none of those things, Pastor.” His eyes were, for the first time, upon me. “I love her—am in love with her,” he corrected, “and want her hand in marriage and would like to remain in my position once I do.”
I took a deep breath as my eyes cast into the distance behind him. I hadn’t been expecting this. I wanted to know how many of our clergy men were of the same mind of rushing into marriage. I would have to deal with this issue right away.
“Minister Brown, 1 Corinthians 14:40 instructs us to do all things in decency and order,” I reminded him calmly yet firmly. “You were engaged to Miranda for over six months, broke it off, and are in love”— I emphasized the words—“with another member of our fold? Do you see just how out of order that is? The type of message it sends to our congregation?”
There was a stretch of silence between us. I didn’t like it. It was distasteful and messy. I did not tolerate disorganization and chaos. They were both unholy attributes.
“I guess I do, Pastor.” Thaddeus broke the blaring muteness. “We should be on our way. I know how you feel about being on time.” He nodded and went to open my door.
“Oh, Pastor Carmichael, you’re here!” a thick brown skinned woman with pearls in her ears and on her wrists trilled as Thaddeus led me into the lobby of the country club. She waved her meaty arm, speaking and moving quickly in her chunky heels. “This way, please.” As we followed behind her she noted, “We’ll be starting momentarily. I can show you to the room we have reserved for you. Can I offer you anything to eat or drink? The kitchen can whip you up anything you want.” She tossed her Mohawk afro over her shoulder briefly so she could peek behind her.
Thaddeus threw me an inquisitive glance to which I shook my head.
“Pastor Carmichael
won’t be needing anything,” he informed.
“You can rest in here. Our hostess should be starting now.” We strolled in behind her as she pushed the door open. “There are a few items on the program before she gets to you. Someone will come get you from here and you can give the opening prayer. Okay?” She smiled brightly from the doorway finally facing us.
I nodded, not feeling words were necessary seeing that she seemed to be in a rush. Her affected regard bounced between Thaddeus and me, strained.
“Which one of you is Pastor Carmichael?” she asked.
My index finger rose slowly, as I was confused by her question. She took me in from the top of my head to the soles of my shoes before batting her lashes and licking her lips. The production was neither fast nor slow, letting me know she wasn’t exactly deliberate, but man, did she have audacity.
“You sure I can’t get you anything?” she asked again.
Immediately, I did an about-face, giving her my back. “Thaddeus.”
“The Pastor is fine. We’ll wait in here until he’s called…” was all I heard because I tuned them out.
This was my first assignment since returning from Kamigu and suddenly I wanted to go back to my honeymoon. My first thought was to be away for an entire month, but I knew that wouldn’t fly with Alexis, so I opted for two short weeks. I’d made quite a few concessions for my beloved, and couldn’t wait for the day she would trust me completely.
She said she feels unwelcome…
Over my ponderings, I heard the door close.
“Thaddeus,” I called out.
“Yes, Pastor?”
“Please set up a meeting with Glen from transportation. I’d like to explore the idea of establishing a schedule for the seniors to have access to the sanctuary on weekday mornings.”
“Sending an email to him now, sir. Should I cc the Bishop? I know this has been a hot topic over the years.”
It had been. The seniors had wanted more access to the church, arguing that they desired more worship time. My father had always been against it, overly concerned about the overhead cost of transporting them and the energy fees it would require to open the sanctuary. I never agreed with that. The least concerns RSfALC had were those of finances.
“No need. I’ll inform him before the arrangements are made.” I answered.
I’d been trying to reconcile Alexis’ issues with my reticent nature, realizing once I became senior pastor in October, my availability would become even more circumscribed. I could possibly go days without touching my wife. That disturbed me deeply. This morning, during my run, it was dropped in my spirit to let the senior community prep the church’s atmosphere by allowing them morning prayer and worship in the sanctuary. Many of my days would be spent in there doing the same thing if this didn’t happen. Granting them this compromise could eliminate that responsibility. And I knew the senior community would do the job of removing the demonic debris from the sanctuary and covering leadership and parishioners in prayer.
Now, to work on that other issue: waking up with her—
“Oh, darling, you’re here!” I heard a familiar cry from behind. “Had I known you’d come, I would’ve made sure Precious was here.”
It was Sister Marva Graham, a longstanding member of Redeeming Souls, also known as my father’s mistress. I stood motionless as she made her way to me. Her small arm wrapped around my back while she stood next to me. That’s when I noticed a group of women behind her.
“Oh, my,” Marva gasped, forcing a smile. I followed her line of vision and recognized the woman who escorted Thaddeus and me in. Her dreamy eyes couldn’t be missed, neither did the way she tapped a woman next to her attempting to mask her squeal go over my head. “I didn’t realize others had joined us.” Marva chirped. “Ezra, dear, I want to introduce you to our chairwoman, First Lady Girth of Mt. Zion in Queens. I believe you know her father.”
First Lady Girth pushed her way through the small group of women, strutted toward me with bashful eyes that conveyed her apparent attraction to me, and offered me her hand. It wasn’t something I was unaccustomed to, but something that I didn’t relish. What many fail to remember is that the spirit of lust doesn’t just attack the nonbeliever: sometimes it attacks the saints especially. I could see First Lady Girth here, fighting off her flesh. And for that, I was pleased. She was young, at most in her early forties, clear caramel skin and wearing a hue of pink, just as all the women did today.
“I am acquainted with the prelate Bishop Girth as well. It’s a pleasure to meet his wife. He’s a wonderful conduit for the Kingdom, First Lady.”
“You can call me Shantay,” she insisted.
I only nodded at that pleasantry then I moved my eyes beyond her, dropping her delicate hand.
“Are we ready?” I asked the woman who escorted us in.
“Not yet. They’re bringing out this year’s hostess, Rebecca Crews,” Marva Graham beamed. “I just wanted to come and introduce First Lady Girth and First Lady Sampson from Macedonia in Connecticut. They’ve been wanting to meet you for some time since it’s been announced that you’ll be taking over for Bishop Carmichael. You and Precious are going to be busy really soon.” She continued to smile proudly, tossing her eyes over to the two women grinning giddily at our exchange. “I can’t wait for you two to take over and give our old bones a rest in the ministry. We’ve been laboring for two decades.” Her stance was of an accomplished First Lady.
I glanced around at the others, most with name tags beginning with the title First Lady.
“I’m sure my mother, being the First Lady at RSfALC, would be more appreciative of that retirement as she’s been at my father’s side, laboring those two decades as First Lady, wouldn’t you agree, Sister Graham?”
Marva’s smile tilted, her eyes flitted over at her audience. “Mary’s gonna love the break, too.”
Just as I was about to correct her and remind her that it was First Lady Carmichael, Girth spoke.
“Oh, did you just marry Precious? I heard you’re newly married, but didn’t realize it was to Marva’s daughter. I thought you two had a relationship as youngsters. It’ll be great to get her on our board given your elevation.”
“Oh, no. Pastor Carmichael here didn’t marry my Precious.” She made a pouty face. “No. His wife isn’t of our…fold. I’m sure that’s where my Precious would have to continue with the intimate bond these two have formed over the years,” she announced cheerily as she rubbed my back with maternal care.
My eyes dropped to her.
“We’re ready for him!” A new woman shouted into the small room, breaking everyone’s attention.
“Oh, dear, time to go and give supplication for this prestigious organization!” Marva coaxed on our way out the door.
As soon as I entered the room, cameras sounded and flashes brightened in my face. I’d been to events where the audience treated me as a celebrity rather than a servant many a time, but I hadn’t expected that here. I took to the podium of the opulent ballroom that was decorated with splendor. These women really knew how to throw a party. I suddenly wondered why my mother wasn’t present and thought to check in on her later, hoping she hadn’t fallen ill again. I gave a few words of gratitude for being invited to give the prayer as my father’s proxy and even made a few jokes about being the less than desirable backup. Then I went into prayer. Nothing too long and certainly words appropriate for the occasion.
I was distracted and slightly perturbed by a number of things, the most disconcerting was Marva and her inappropriate antics regarding her relationship with me and mine with her daughter—the one that if it were any more platonic we’d be strangers. A part of my disinterest in returning to the States and taking up the ministry was this adulterated culture. My father was not the only leader carrying on a relationship outside of his marriage. There were quite a few in RSfALC. One of my biggest challenges would be to extinguish these affairs tactfully. I may not have been able to start with my father and Marva, but w
ould certainly not have her infringe on my marriage.
When I was done, the room went up in praise and applause. I posed for a few pictures at the podium with some of the leadership, compliantly. When I was done, Marva met me at the door as if to see me out.
“A word with you, Sister Graham,” I proposed stoically.
“Sure, dear.” She smiled brightly as she followed me out of the main hall.
I led her into the small room off the kitchen where they had Thaddeus and me wait earlier and asked him to wait outside the door. I walked into the middle of the room before turning to her. Marva was a petite woman with a medium frame. She always smelled of expensive perfume and wore tasteful jewelry and makeup. Her wigs stayed perfectly colored to complement her almond skin and were styled with precision. She was well kept. A woman of elegant and poised presentation. However, in my book, she’d always lacked class. I was never sure of the dynamics between her and my parents, and believed it was now time for me to set the parameters in our relationship.
“Sister Graham, I have been extremely gracious and patient with you considering your inappropriate conduct with the Bishop—”
She gulped in air. “Inappropriate conduct?” Her hand slapped her collarbone and jaw dropped.
“Yes, and please do not ask me to itemize the distasteful events to paint the picture of your unholy lifestyle over the years with a married man, whom is also a leader of a holy religious organization. What you two do is out of my control to a large degree. What my mother has allowed is even more beyond my influence; however, when it comes to me, we need to make few things clear. I am not your son”—she gasped—“neither am I so much as family to you outside the body of Christ. I do not, nor will I ever, have a relationship with your daughter other than being her religious leader at Redeeming Souls.” Her eyes began to gloss. “And finally, you will never speak on behalf of my wife again. You do not know her and will never have the opportunity to. Am I understood, Sister Graham?” My voice remained calm, but my resolve steely.