Blessed Trinity

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “Okay, we don’t want to get too far off the subject,” Pastor Landris said. “The other parts to our name are Faith and Worship. I started to leave faith off, but we know that without faith it is impossible to please God. So we want this to be a place where we encourage the building up of faith. We really do want the kind of faith flowing in our congregation that can move mountains. But the core…the powerhouse of our mission will be to come together as a body and worship—praise and worship the only wise God. Thus—Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center.”

  People started smiling and nodding. “I like it,” a young lady said.

  “Me, too,” said another. The general consensus was affirmative.

  “I’m still concerned that people may label this a cult because we don’t have the word church in it,” a man in his late twenties said.

  Pastor Landris walked a few steps back and forth with both hands in his pockets before addressing that comment. “I’ve considered that. But you know, I can’t get caught up in what other people think. Yes, I want everybody to get what we’re about. I’m strictly going by the Word of God as well as listening to the Holy Spirit as He leads, teaches, and guides me. That’s all I can promise any of you here, and any person who comes later. I realize we have collective bodies that decide, in some organizations, what truth is or is not, what’s right or not. But I’ll have to give my own account. I’ll have to answer to God. I don’t want to get to heaven and have a conversation with God about why I was doing what other folks said or thought was right, when He clearly told me what He wanted me to do. There is a life to come after we leave this place.”

  Pastor Landris smiled at the young man and walked back to the front. “We all will have to give an account not only for the things we’ve done, but the things we didn’t do. God has instructed me to call this place of gathering and worship, a center. He may tell others to call theirs a church. Neither is wrong. But if God tells me one thing, but I want to establish my own thing, my own way, He’s not going to bless it. I’m on my own, then. Trust me, this is not about me. There are plenty of other things I could be doing with my life, and probably with a lot less stress, headaches, and sad to say, less backstabbing. But this is what God is calling me to do, and I must be about my Father’s business according to His instruction, not man’s.”

  “You know, the Bible does ask: What is man that we’re mindful of him?” Mrs. Watts said. “My husband and I are older than many of you. Gerald, here,” she touched his arm lightly, “is 62, and I’m 60. Many of our friends are not going to be happy if we decide to join this ministry. They’ll put us down and probably say we really are following a cult. But if we hook up here, as the young folk say, we’re going to be doing what God has told us. The Bible says that obedience is better than sacrifice. We may lose longtime friends, but the Bible tells us that none of us will give up houses, land, family, or friends who won’t receive it back a hundredfold and shall inherit everlasting life.”

  “Matthew 19:29,” Pastor Landris said, identifying the scripture reference.

  Johnnie Mae couldn’t help but smile as she thought to herself: Walking Bible.

  “And right after that verse it says, ‘But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first.’ We can’t get caught up in this kind of stuff,” Mr. Watts said. “We really must seek what God is telling our own, individual hearts to do. So can we join now, or do we have to wait?” He took his wife’s hand in his.

  Pastor Landris had a puzzled look on his face. “Join now?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Watts said. “This congregation. I know this was a meeting to talk about getting started, and I understand you’re still working on securing a building. But personally, I’m content to come right here, if we have to, so why not get going? I know this is y’all’s home, and you might not want to open your doors for services. But me and Eleanor here, we’ll gladly open the doors to our home if needed. The early churches in the New Testament began in people’s homes. There’s no dishonor in starting out this way. I just want to start receiving some good Word from you. None of us are getting any younger.”

  Others began to say, “I’m in!” “Me, too!” “Count me in!”

  “Hold up, everyone,” Pastor Landris said as he tried to calm the swell of voices. “So you’re telling me if we began services in our home, you wouldn’t mind coming here?” He pointed where he stood. “You really wouldn’t mind?”

  “Absolutely not!” most of them chorused.

  “Look, Pastor Landris,” Sapphire said, “I’ve been privileged to learn from your teaching when you were in Atlanta. I’ve visited a few churches since my arrival in Birmingham. Please hear my heart: I’m not knocking any church or preacher, but I can’t find the kind of soul food you were feeding us. Maybe I’m spoiled. I need the kind of Word that affects my life. I don’t need to feel good for a few minutes, only to leave the same way as I came. I would rather come here on Sunday mornings and sit at your feet, than go to a quote-unquote ‘church building’ and leave unaffected and unfilled. When it gets warmer, we can meet at the park if we have to. Personally, I don’t care. Meanwhile, I know God is going to open doors for Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center.”

  “A temporary place to get started—that’s all this would be,” Thomas said. “Because I know God has big plans for you, little brother, and this ministry.”

  “I second that,” Sherry said. “Oops! Sorry, y’all. I must have had a momentary flashback.” At her old church, they would always vote on everything with one person making a motion, and another person seconding it.

  A few people laughed.

  Pastor Landris looked at Johnnie Mae. Should we begin here this coming Sunday?

  She smiled at him and nodded as though she were reading his mind. “Yes,” she mouthed, and continued to nod. “Yes.”

  Pastor Landris blew her a kiss as they all were rapidly exchanging various thoughts, opinions, and ideas.

  “Well, people. For anyone interested, it appears the newly chartered Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center will have our first service right here on tomorrow, Sunday, March 10, at, let’s say, 10:30 A.M.”

  Everybody clapped. It was all set. The first service would be held tomorrow in the house Johnnie Mae built.

  Chapter 13

  After these things the word of the Lord came unto Abram in a vision, saying, Fear not, Abram: I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward.

  (Genesis 15:1)

  “Do you want a baby?” Johnnie Mae asked. It was August 5, 2002, the day following, coincidentally, her forty-second birthday. “Because if you do, then we probably need to get started.”

  “Where did that come from?” Pastor Landris asked. They were sitting on the couch in the den, talking about the church building, when she changed the subject.

  “It came from me honestly admitting how old I really am, and not the age I think I am in my head.”

  He frowned. “What? The age you think you are?”

  “Yes,” she said, letting out a sigh. “Somewhere in my mind I really think I’m still seventeen, I still think I’m young and can turn cartwheels and stay up late.”

  “Well, you are still young. Today’s forty-, fifty-, and sixty-year-olds are not like our grandparents’ ages.”

  “Good answer, but let’s try to be realistic.” She smiled. “I keep thinking I have enough time to do everything, but in reality, I really don’t. When we got married, I thought you and I could wait another five years to think about a baby. But that would put me around forty-six. By the time our child turned twenty, I would be sixty-six. And you, you’d be sixty-eight. It’s bad enough knowing if we start now I would still be sixty-two…sixty-three. Oh, it’s depressing when I think that far ahead.”

  “Then don’t think of it like that,” Pastor Landris said.

  “So what are you saying? You want a baby now?”

  “No.”

  “No, you don’t want one?” Johnnie Mae pressed the heels of her palms again
st her eyes. She quickly lowered her hands.

  “No, I mean yes.” He grabbed her wrist. “Johnnie Mae, sit down and slow down.”

  “What? I’m trying to find out where you stand on this.” Johnnie Mae sat down and started chewing gently on her bottom lip. “Let’s take this one question at a time,” she said. “Truthfully, I want to know how you feel about this baby thing.”

  “Are you pregnant now?” Pastor Landris asked as his eyes drifted quickly toward her abdomen, then back to her eyes. “Is there a chance you might be?”

  “No. I’m not, and I don’t think I might be. I was just thinking about this gray hair that keeps coming. My hairdresser asked, again,” she rolled her eyes, “if I wanted to dye my hair. I don’t know. If I dye or streak it, I would look years younger.”

  “And all of this started you on a baby quest?”

  “No, it didn’t start me on ‘a baby quest.’ But it got me thinking.” Johnnie Mae took a deep breath as he grabbed both her hands and held them tightly inside his. “My hair is turning gray,” she said. “Daily. I could dye it, and it would make me look so much younger, and then maybe I wouldn’t even be thinking about this baby question at all.”

  “Okay, J. M.” Pastor Landris said as though he was giving up. He still held onto her hands.

  She snatched her hands out of his. “See, whenever you start calling me J. M., I know what you’re thinking. I know this seemed to have come out of left field, Landris, but I need to know what your thoughts are about us—you and me—having a baby together. Do you want a child or not? I know you love Princess Rose like she was your own, but I know what it means, for some men, to have their own biological child.”

  “That’s for men who want a child of their own,” Pastor Landris said.

  “See? See, now that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She flung her hands close to his face in a staccato motion as she spoke. “I don’t know if you want one or not. We talked about it during our premarital counseling, but your answer seemed to always come back to whatever I want. But I want to know what you want. And I’m not trying to be sweet here. If you don’t want a child, and you feel strongly about not having one, especially at this late stage of the game—”

  “My, you’re making me feel like I have one foot in the grave and the other on a watered slip-n-slide with ‘this late stage of the game’?”

  “You know what I mean. Just answer the question, will you? Do you want a baby or not? You, Landris. Not what you think I want; do you want one? Yes or no?”

  “Johnnie Mae…”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Yes,” Pastor Landris said. “Yes.” He kissed her hand, his voice escalating slightly. “Yes.” He kissed her hand twice as his voice escalated a little bit more. “Yes!” he said in a loud, whispery voice, as he kissed her hand three times.

  She let out a huge sigh. “You see now?” The tone of her voice was filled with frustration.

  He looked at her, confused. “What?”

  “What if I’m too old already? What if we’ve waited too long?”

  “You? Too old? Oh, I don’t think we’re going to have any problems.” He kissed her hand again. “In fact, I can almost guarantee this will be an assignment I can’t wait to get to work on.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  “Yes.”

  She purposely rolled her eyes so he would know she was doing it, then stared at him.

  “What?” He chuckled. “You said ‘boy or girl.’ I think that’s a great choice to choose between, unless you want to go for twins? That way, we won’t have to have this discussion again.”

  “So you’re saying you want two children?” Johnnie Mae asked, pulling her hand out of his.

  He slipped off her shoes and began massaging her stockinged feet. “No, I’m not saying that. But if that’s what you want, we can go for that, too. Now, are you telling me you want to take care of this with one pregnancy or two?”

  “Like you have any say-so about whether we have twins or not,” Johnnie Mae said with a tease in her voice.

  “Is that a challenge? Are you saying there’s no way I, George Landris, a man who has been called by God, can give you, my darling Johnnie Mae, twins?”

  “One is enough. At least it’s a start.” She smiled, then became serious. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Don’t laugh. But seriously, we can get this going. In another month…two, tops, we can incorporate our little one in the other plans I’m sure we’ll be pursuing full throttle. My due date would be around June…July 2003, and I’m sure we’ll have to start thinking about the construction of our worship center building by then.”

  “I see you have this all mapped out.”

  She put her feet on the floor, reached down and grabbed his, swung them up across her lap, then peeled off his Bruno Magli cognac-colored leather sneakers, and began to return the foot-massage favor. “No, not everything. I still need to know: boy or girl?”

  He laughed. “That tickles.”

  “Oh, really now.” She began to truly tickle his feet. “Boy or girl?”

  “Stop that,” he said as he laughed between clenched teeth. “Stop it! It doesn’t matter!” he yelled as he continued to laugh. “As long as the baby is…stop that, Johnnie Mae…healthy and happy!”

  “Everybody says that,” Johnnie Mae said, refusing to release his foot as he struggled to get out of her grip. She had stopped tickling him now. “I say a boy.”

  He was down to a slow giggle at this point. “Do you want a boy?”

  Johnnie Mae stopped and looked into his eyes. “Honestly?” she asked as her eyes began to dance with adoration.

  “Yes,” he said, matching her now more serious tone. “Honestly.”

  “Honestly, I really don’t care whether it’s a boy or a girl. As long as, like you said, he or she is healthy and happy, and I’d like to add, knows the Lord the way we do.”

  Pastor Landris knew, at that moment, his wife meant just that.

  Chapter 14

  I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works…

  (Psalm 139:14)

  Pastor Landris didn’t know what to do to make her feel better. After a year of trying, the frustration of not being able to conceive was weighing heavily on Johnnie Mae’s mind and their relationship. What had definitely begun as a happy endeavor had, within six months, descended into something more like a large-scale science project.

  Johnnie Mae was taking her temperature and using kits to predict ovulation days. There were constant doctor appointments for her and threats of possible ones for him, if it became necessary to know which of them had the problem.

  Also, by August 2003, the church congregation had finally moved out of their house into a modern sanctuary, accommodating 500 people comfortably. They had been able to talk with the owners of the land Johnnie Mae found. All 63 members liked the location and the view, which was breathtaking—almost heavenly. They negotiated to buy 5 acres with first options on purchasing the remaining 35. Pastor Landris had contributed a great deal of his remaining funds, although the congregation insisted they considered it a loan since the bank had turned them down for the required financing. They bought three modular buildings because it turned out to be the fastest way to get a building up and ready.

  They had actually begun working toward getting a building that third Sunday in April 2002. Prior to that, they’d scouted for a building to rent, which didn’t work out at all. That was when the suggestion came to reconsider the land Johnnie Mae had found.

  Johnnie Mae explained to the congregation how much the entire forty acres cost. Mr. Watts was good friends with a banker—he felt confident the newly formed church could get approved for a loan. But even with Pastor Landris’s money, along with the land as potential collateral, the bank turned them down. It was just too much money to risk on an up-and-coming church.

  A young man named Brent Underwood came to visit the church the fourth Su
nday in July 2002. “I must admit,” he said, standing near the couch after services were over, “I almost didn’t come. I didn’t feel comfortable attending church in a house. Then I drove up and saw your place, which is lovely and large, and I couldn’t believe you would actually choose to have services there. I don’t know if I would be so open to having strangers in my house like this, even in the name of the Lord.”

  “We’re glad you came anyway,” Angel said, giving him a little bump with her shoulder. He was six inches taller than her five feet, three inches, even with her three-inch heels. Angel had invited Brent—they worked together at the radio station. Brent had been brought in to take over the job Angel was hired for, after the sale of the station went through. He had appreciated her attitude toward him—none of this was his fault. His father wanted to keep the business side under their thumbs, so Brent was appointed to manage things. Angel’s job quickly became training Brent to do the job she was losing. She was demoted to programming manager.

  “I’m thinking of the number of people I know who would love to come but won’t because they’ll refuse to set foot inside a church doubling as a home or vice versa,” Brent said. “We really need to find a less intimidating place to hold services.”

  “We, huh?” Pastor Landris said. “Does this mean you’re coming on board?”

  “Aye-aye, Captain,” Brent said as he saluted Pastor Landris. “After that message today, definitely. But I don’t just want to join. I have a lot to offer, and I plan to come with my sleeves rolled up, ready to work. The more people hear this Word you’re preaching, Pastor Landris, the more they’ll walk with God and His blessings,” Brent said. “And that’s really what church should be all about.”

  “We’ve tried to get a facility, but we keep running into roadblocks,” Angel said.

  “Why don’t you rent a storefront if you have to…an empty house…something like that, then convert it to a church building even if it’s just temporarily?” Brent said.