Blessed Trinity

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  Pastor Landris stopped and stared at her. “You don’t get this, do you? This man who calls himself a preacher is making a mockery of God—and he believes people are stupid. I see right through him. I’m sure other people can, too.”

  “I don’t think people like Reverend Knight believe people are actually stupid,” Johnnie Mae said. She put water in the copper kettle and turned on the gas stove. “They may just believe nothing will really happen to them. You know, like Adam and Eve did in the Garden of Eden. When God told them they would surely die if they ate from or even touched The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. But the serpent told Eve they wouldn’t surely die. He then told her they would be as gods, knowing good and evil.”

  “Does this have any relevance to what I’m trying to say here?” Pastor Landris flopped down on the bench at the kitchen table.

  Johnnie Mae smiled; at least she was getting him to calm down a little. “Eve knew from Adam what God said. They both knew God really existed because He walked and talked with them in the garden. Can you imagine the intimacy they shared with God Almighty at that level?” She smiled at the thought of it. “To be able to spend that kind of time and have that kind of a relationship with the Lord? Everything you could possibly need or want, God having already provided it…in advance. They didn’t lack for food, because they had more than enough. Adam and Eve knew the good. They just never knew what bad was. Think about it—they couldn’t have had a clue.”

  “Since you’re bringing this up,” Pastor Landris said, “you know what I’ve always found fascinating about Genesis 3:6? Adam was right there with Eve when she took the fruit off the tree.”

  Johnnie Mae pulled out the Bible they kept on the bottom shelf of the bookcase in the kitchen and turned to Genesis 3:6. She smiled. Landris never ceased to amaze her when it came down to recalling where a scripture was in the Bible. He rarely got a scripture reference wrong.

  “‘And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food,’” she read aloud, “‘and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her, and he did eat.’” Johnnie Mae set the opened Bible down on the counter when she finished.

  The kettle began to whistle. She turned it off and placed a tea bag inside each of the two coffee mugs. She poured hot water into each cup.

  “Before they ate from the tree,” Pastor Landris said, “they were naked and everything was good. Out of all the things God declared was good and very good, there was one thing he said that wasn’t. In Genesis 2:18, God said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone.’ I used to ponder about that tree. What was so special about it? Why did God put it there in the first place? Theologians have their own thoughts and opinions, but I don’t necessarily buy what other people tell me. My thoughts are that God could have placed that tree anywhere else He wanted to, but He didn’t. He placed the tree right there in the garden with them. I’ve come up with what I believe about that.”

  “You know, I would ask some of these same questions when I was growing up in the church, but no one ever wants to address them.” Johnnie Mae set a cup of green tea in front of Pastor Landris and sat down with her own cup in her hand. She blew a ripple over the top of the tea to cool it. “People try to guide you away from asking any hard questions they either don’t know the answers to or don’t want to face. They merely avoid it by saying—”

  “You shouldn’t question God,” Pastor Landris said, finishing her sentence as he watched her carefully take a sip from her cup.

  “Exactly. So what’s your take on it, Pastor?”

  Pastor Landris smiled. “Oh, you’re good. You think you’re slick, too, don’t you? I was talking about Reverend Knight and you have somehow managed to steer this whole conversation in a totally different direction. You are good.”

  She smiled back. “So is this your way of avoiding my question, Pastor Landris? Is that why you’re trying to change the discussion back to Reverend Knight here? You do know what they say—if you can’t stand the heat? You know…when things like the question I’m waiting for you to answer get too hot?”

  Pastor Landris rubbed his chin and leaned in closer toward his wife as he teasingly leered at her. Raising his cup, he took a gulp of tea, and said, “You mean if you can’t stand the hot water, you must not be tea?”

  Johnnie Mae practically sprayed Pastor Landris with some of the tea she had just placed in her mouth as a laugh forced its way out. She grabbed a paper towel and wiped his shirt off, then dabbed at her mouth. “No,” she said, not believing he’d just said that. “I was saying if you can’t stand the heat, you need to get out of the kitchen. You’re such a nut.”

  “Watch it, now. Be careful how you talk about God’s anointed ones.”

  “You’d better be careful. I’m just as anointed as you are. Do you want to explain ‘the hot water, then you must not be tea’ quip you just made?”

  “The tea changes the hot water to become more of what it is. So if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the hot water. Too many people are like carrots going from being hard to soft while others are like eggs going from being soft to hard. But few are like tea bags that actually embrace the hot water in order to one, become all it’s meant to be; and two, integrate its essence into what was first thought to be an adversity, only to change, enhance, and affect its immediate surroundings entirely. Which brings me back to Reverend Knight.”

  Johnnie Mae started clapping. “Before you go back to Reverend Knight, I’m still waiting on my answer. Why did God put The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the garden, making it so easy for Adam and Eve to eat from it?”

  Pastor Landris bit down on his bottom lip as he tried not to laugh at how cute she looked waiting for him to answer her. “That’s a pretty simple one, my dear Johnnie Mae. You see, I figure it like this: God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient. Which means, in a nutshell, nothing has happened in the past or will happen in the present or future that God doesn’t know about. Nothing. Which also must mean God would have had to know they would eat from the tree. Right?” Pastor Landris looked intensely at her as he moved in even closer.

  “Careful, Pastor. You don’t want to say something and find yourself in hot water.”

  “First, Peter 1:19–20 says, ‘But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot. Who verily was foreordained before the foundation of the world, but was manifest in these last times for you.’ Hebrews 4:3, ‘For we which have believed do enter into rest, as he said, As I have sworn in my wrath, if they shall enter into my rest: although the works were finished from the foundation of the world.’ Please note that the words ‘foreordained before,’ ‘were finished,’ and ‘foundation’ are all my emphasis. And lastly…”

  “How do you do that?” Johnnie Mae asked before he could finish. “How do you recall scriptures like you do?”

  “And lastly,” he said, smiling, but not allowing her to derail him, “Revelation 13:8 says, and I quote, ‘And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.’ Verse 9, ‘If any man have an ear, let him hear.’ You see? Before the foundation and from the foundation, the Lamb was already slain! A very important fact, very important.” He sighed. “Now that I’ve laid my foundation, please ask your question again. Go on. Ask it.” Elbows on the table, he propped his chin on his fists.

  She smiled and shook her head. “Why did God put The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the garden, making it so easy for them to eat from it?”

  “How did Princess Rose learn what was okay to do and not do when she was a toddler?” Princess Rose, Johnnie Mae’s daughter, had recently turned three years old.

  “We would tell her ‘no’ or ‘stop’ but mostly ‘no’ when she was doing something she shouldn’t.”

  “Did you ever tell her not to do something befo
re she did it?”

  “Yes. Okay; I see where you’re headed with this.”

  “And did she do it anyway?”

  “Yes.” She grinned and shook her head. “Can you possibly speed this along?”

  “Okay. You told her not to do something, but as a baby she most likely didn’t quite understand completely. After she did it, she learned what wrong was and the consequences that followed it.” Pastor Landris leaned back in the seat and took a swallow of his tea. “Saying not to do something makes some people think more about doing it.”

  “I get it,” Johnnie Mae said.

  “So if you think about Adam and Eve, they really didn’t know what evil, death, or disobedience was because all they had ever experienced was good. They didn’t know what bad or evil was, let alone what to ‘surely die’ meant. Prior to their act, nothing had ever been killed or died. It was only after they disobeyed God and ate from the tree that they became acquainted with the knowledge of good and evil.” He drank the rest of his tea.

  “They had broken fellowship with the only Father either of them had,” Pastor Landris continued. “Think about it. That is death. They were literally banished from the Garden of Eden. Another loss. They discovered they were naked, then tried hiding themselves. God had to kill an animal to cover them—a blood sacrifice in order to cover sin. Being naked hadn’t been a problem for them before, yet it was afterward.” He looked at her and grinned. “Now, can we get back to Reverend Knight?”

  “Okay, but I have just one more question for you that’s generally off limits. At least, for any of the preachers I’ve tried asking in the past.” Johnnie Mae took a cluster of grapes out of the refrigerator, washed them, placed them in a glass bowl, and set them on the table. Plucking off a few, she offered them to Landris. “This won’t take but a minute. I promise. Then you can get back to Reverend Knight and whatever else.”

  “Go ahead,” Pastor Landris said as he popped a big, black, seedless grape into his mouth.

  “Where did evil come from?”

  Pastor Landris thought for a minute. “I know you’re expecting me to say, from Satan.”

  “If I get an answer, that’s usually the answer I get.” Johnnie Mae pulled a grape off the stem and took a bite. “According to what we were just saying, there was a tree in the Garden of Eden called The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. God put it there. My question is: Where did evil come from for there to even be the knowledge of it? We know Satan was once a top angel—beautiful, with jewels and the most melodious singing voice ever created.”

  “So you’re saying Satan was the choir director?” Pastor Landris teased.

  “Don’t even go there,” Johnnie Mae said, knowing full well the battle Pastor Landris had fought in the past with the choir director at Wings of Grace Faith Ministry Church. The choir director wanted to sing every song that came out as gospel, and Pastor Landris didn’t believe some songs—old or new—fulfilled the requirements of gospel. Some were downright depressing, playing mostly to emotions, and Pastor Landris just wasn’t having those under his pastoral leadership. If a song didn’t have a true gospel message, Pastor Landris refused to promote it at all.

  “Okay, Johnnie Mae, back to your question.” He knew his wife was only trying to keep his mind off what Reverend Knight had done by asking these questions, at least until he’d calmed down a little more. “Satan decided he wanted to revolt against God and ended up getting himself and one-third of the angels thrown out of heaven. That’s described, using Lucifer as the name, in Isaiah 14:12–14.”

  The phone rang. Johnnie Mae got up and checked the caller ID. Pastor Landris continued. “Now I don’t exactly know how you’re going to receive this but…” He saw Johnnie Mae frown.

  “This is Reverend Knight,” she said, almost in a whisper as though Reverend Knight could actually hear her.

  He waved the call away. “Let it go to voice mail.”

  “Landris, that’s not right.” As much as she wanted to divert his attention from Reverend Knight, she knew it was wrong for him not to answer the call.

  “What’s not right? I really don’t want to talk to him.” The phone rang a fourth time. It would automatically go to voice mail after the sixth ring.

  “Hello,” Johnnie Mae said, catching it on the fifth ring. “Yes, hold on.” Johnnie Mae pressed the Mute button and walked the cordless phone over to her husband.

  “I don’t want to talk to him,” Pastor Landris said, having seen her press the button to mute their conversation. “What can he say to me at this point? I don’t trust him, Johnnie Mae.”

  “Talk to him anyway. See what he wants. You’ve not talked with him since that building was taken off the market. Landris, you know what’s the right thing to do here,” Johnnie Mae said. “Be ye holy, Pastor. You know what’s right.”

  “Yeah, I know. But knowing doesn’t always make it easy—even for preachers.” He took the phone.

  “Pastor Landris speaking.”

  Johnnie Mae turned off the toaster oven, took out the crab cakes, put them on the plate Pastor Landris had taken out, and placed them in front of him. She walked out of the room, praying this conversation would settle some things for her husband so he would be able to do what he needed to do.

  If nothing else, he needed peace about this in his own heart.

  Chapter 6

  I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.

  (Psalm 37:25)

  “Pastor Landris, this is Reverend Knight. How are you?”

  “Wonderful. And yourself?”

  “Making it, or as my congregation loves saying every Sunday, ‘Blessed of the Lord and highly favored!’” He cleared his throat, loudly in Pastor Landris’s ear.

  Pastor Landris pulled the phone away and looked at it while shaking his head in disbelief at the man’s rudeness.

  Reverend Knight continued. “I’m sure you’re wondering what has prompted my call.”

  “It crossed my mind.”

  “Well, I was wondering if I might be able to interest you in lunch—on me, of course.”

  “And what would be the occasion? Celebrating my losing out on securing a building I was trying to get, maybe?”

  “Oh, I can see you don’t pull any punches. I like that in a man, and even more so in a preacher. You know, we’ve gotten so sanctimonious these days, we don’t always say what’s on our minds. That only leads to unnecessary speculation.” Reverend Knight cleared his throat again. “Forgive me for the noise in my throat. I’ve almost used it up preaching for the Lord. You know, that’s the way I want to go out,” he said, as though he was preaching a sermon and coming to the close. He paused a second. “Listen, Doc, I want to get together with you. Lunch, dinner, whatever you want. I just need to have a real sit-down talk with you. I have an offer I’d like to propose, and I don’t care to discuss it over the phone. So what do you say?”

  “If I said I wasn’t interested—”

  “At least sit down with me and hear what I have to say. If you’re not interested, then you’re the kind of man who will flat-out tell me. But only a fool will turn down something without knowing what he’s turning down.”

  Pastor Landris only heard the word “fool,” and that didn’t sit too well. “What if I want to think about it first?”

  “Think about what? I’m asking you out to eat and talk—I’m not proposing marriage. Besides, you’re not my type!” Reverend Knight laughed out loud at his own joke.

  Pastor Landris was silent.

  “Come on, Doc. Let’s you and me sit down and break bread together. You and me. We can talk and get to know each other better. Who knows, you might find I have something you’re interested in. How’s noon tomorrow looking for you?”

  Pastor Landris already knew the whole day was open for him. “Let me get back to you,” he said.

  “Sure, sure. Talk it over with the missus and get her okay.” Reverend Knight laughed again. “Fro
m more than forty-eight years of marital experience, believe me, you don’t want to mess up there.”

  Pastor Landris decided not to even dignify that with a comment. “What’s your phone number?”

  Reverend Knight gave him his number. “I look forward to hearing from you shortly,” he said. “Now don’t keep me waiting too long. You wouldn’t want the cloud to move without you.”

  They hung up. Pastor Landris stared at the phone before placing it back in its base.

  He went to find Johnnie Mae. She was in the den folding towels. A woman named Ms. Bertha came three times a week to clean the house, but Johnnie Mae enjoyed folding towels fresh out of the dryer so much, she did that task herself.

  “He wants to have lunch tomorrow,” Pastor Landris said, watching Johnnie Mae smooth out and line up the plush, combed-cotton towel before triple-folding it.

  “Wear something a little more casual than usual.”

  “Who said I was going?”

  “You. He wants to have lunch and talk. I’m sure you want to hear what he has to say. Knowing you like I do, I’m sure you’re planning to confront him. Instead of driving yourself crazy about what he may or may not be up to, call him back right now and tell him you’ll meet him tomorrow. Regardless of what he ends up saying, you’ll know for sure and have peace of mind.”

  “So what’s on your mind?” he said, looking closer at her troubled, unsmiling face.

  “Nothing.”

  He got up, squatted down in front of her, grabbed both her hands, and looked into her eyes. “Johnnie Mae, what’s wrong?”

  She released the towel and looked back at him. “I called over to check on my mother while you were on the other line talking with Reverend Knight. She’s having a bad day today. Really bad. It’s getting so hard. With Rachel home visiting, I now have Rachel, Marie, and Donald ganging up and badgering me about my decision to let Mama stay in her own house instead of putting her somewhere. But Mama doesn’t want to leave her home yet. She loves her house…she loves her community. That’s her comfort zone. How can I make her leave that?”