Sex in the Sanctuary

by Lutishia Lovely

  Because you’re not here.

  King knew His voice, but remained silent. He didn’t know if he wanted to have this conversation.

  You haven’t been here for a long time.

  “How can you say that, Lord? I live here.”

  No, you exist here. You sleep, eat, shower and change here. You live at the church. You live at April’s.

  King wasn’t trying to hear this. “I live here,” he repeated emphatically, like a petulant child.

  Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. Is Tai your treasure?

  King was silent. Damn, God was playing hardball!

  Son?

  “You know I love Tai, Lord. She’s the mother of my kids. We’ve been together since we were their age. How can I help but love her?”

  I didn’t ask you if you loved her. I asked if she was your treasure.

  “I love Tai more than I love anyone else. There’re just certain things I need that I don’t get from her.”

  And why do you think that is?

  “It’s not my fault!”

  I wasn’t going to bring up the f-word, but now that you mention it…

  King got up, addressed the empty room. “Look, I never said I was perfect.”

  Well, at least you didn’t lie.

  King slumped into the chair in a huff. “I’ve tried my best. I’ve done my part. There’s no use trying to feed a fire that’s long gone out.”

  Many times, son, one looks at a mound that seems but ashes. However, if one stokes the fire, blows wind on it, tiny, glowing embers that are buried beneath the ashes will start to burn, and those embers will become a flame, and that flame can heat a cold room, or a cold heart.

  Was it possible? Was there any chance that he could feel for Tai the way he used to? Feel the passion, the tenderness, the romance that was theirs as newlyweds? He could still remember how his heart used to skip a beat when she walked into the room. How her quiet presence had been the calm in the storm of those early church years.

  He put his head in his hands, remembering. King had all but given up on his marriage to Tai, and knew she had done the same. Their separate rooms were but an outward manifestation of an inward truth. They shared the same house but lived separate lives. Was there a way that something that seemed so dead could live again?

  I am the resurrection and the life. Remember that, son. Remember me.

  King went upstairs and undressed. He sat on the edge of the bed, thinking of everything and nothing at all. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. Ten o’clock in Los Angeles. He grabbed the phone and the piece of paper beside it. He tapped the table abstractedly as he waited for Tai to pick up after being connected to her suite. The hotel’s voice mail came on. King hung up without leaving a message. But when he went to sleep that night, he dreamt of Tai. It was a good dream; they were talking, laughing. And that, he thought when he awoke the next morning, was a start.

  Mum’s the word

  For whatever reason, Millicent had never had many close female friends. From the time she was a young girl growing up in Portland, Oregon, she was often the outsider. Since she was taller than average, awkward and shy, the neighborhood girls would often mistake her introverted nature for arrogance. Because her mother always dressed her like a princess, the other kids thought Millicent’s family was rich, but they were solidly middle-class. The fact was her mother, a former model, loved to sew, and though you wouldn’t know it, most of Millicent’s early wardrobe was home-sewn original designs. Millicent loved how her mom would make sure everything matched, from her undies to her socks to her shoes to the bows in her hair. And speaking of hair, that got her in trouble big-time. She couldn’t help it that her hair was long and thick, and that her mother kept it immaculate, often giving her Shirley Temple curls with bright, starched bows. More than once she came home crying after her jealous, nappy-headed classmates had knocked her down, pulled her hair and stolen her pretty hair doodads. She could remember how the girls would make fun of her, calling her names, picking fights, always instigating. At first she tried to befriend these bullies with offers to play with her dolls or share her cookie and candy treats, but after scores of rejections she decided that the best defense was a good offense. She started ignoring her female classmates and neighbors, choosing to hang out with the boys instead. They never picked on her, and always welcomed her to hang out with them. From the time she was twelve until she was in her late twenties, Millicent always had a boyfriend. And now, although she admitted a new coworker might be a contender, there was only one man that totally caught her eye and held her heart. She couldn’t wait forever, however, and wanted something to happen. Right now!

  Only, at this moment, Millicent longed for a close female friend, needed a friend. Who could she turn to? Her friend and prayer partner, Alison, had recently relocated to the East Coast to take care of an ailing mother. She was sure no one else she knew would begin to understand, and she wasn’t even sure Alison would agree with her more recent thoughts which she’d decided not to share. Who could she trust enough to confide in, with whom could she share her feelings? Anyone at the church was out of the question. She had come close to sharing her feelings more fully with Sister Vivian, but something held her back. Don’t let your right hand know what your left hand is doing. That was what the Word said. No, there was no help there.

  Millicent turned from her idle computer screen and looked out the window of her thirty-story, downtown office building. It was a clear, beautiful California day, and the view of buildings and streets and cars and people stretched out endlessly before her. There had to be somebody, but who?

  She thought about her sometime workout partners, Jen and Patricia. Although she wouldn’t consider them close friends, they had developed a warm camaraderie limited primarily to the fitness center. She felt closer to Jen than to Patricia, but she just couldn’t see making Jen privy to this very personal, very special aspect of her life. Besides, Jen was always gossiping about somebody, and she needed someone who could keep a confidence in this situation. She thought about her coworkers. One by one, the names came and were checked off in her mind. Again, she liked to keep her private life private, and with the amount of competition already prevalent in the marketing department, she didn’t need anyone with any information on her that she didn’t necessarily want to get out. In time, the whole world would know, and she herself would shout the announcement from the rooftops. But for now, mum was the word.

  Millicent spent the next couple hours talking to potential customers, meeting with clients and putting out fires. After a quick lunch eaten in her office, she pulled out her reports and scanned them again for accuracy. She felt confident that with her plan implemented, the department could hit the numbers she’d forecasted. Yes, she was ready for the meeting, and she was assured the “big boys” would be pleased. She knew already that the vice president, Mr. Burroughs, was impressed with her work and with her. More than once, he’d hinted about her taking a position as director, a position that would place her salary in the six figures but would also involve a good amount of travel as well as outside sales. No, this wasn’t the time for Millicent to be under extra pressure and away from home. She needed to be close to the ministry and to Cy.

  Cy. Millicent stood up and looked out the window. Cy Taylor, her future husband. A little squiggle of anxiety flashed through her stomach. Could it really be happening? Could she really be right in believing that Cy was the man of her dreams, the man God had chosen to be her husband since eternity?

  Millicent walked back over to her desk and sat down. She grabbed the S.O.S. materials she had been working on and placed them in her briefcase. The first three Saturdays of the summer had flown by, and now they were ready for the fourth and final gathering. Millicent would be meeting with Sister Vivian, Sistah Tai and other members of Ladies First later that evening. They would go over details for the final day, including the special luncheon with guest speaker Iyanla Vanzant. Focusing her attention
back on the job at hand, she clicked on a computer file and opened it up. She scrolled down the page of information, marketing strategies and suggestions for one of her newest clients, a prestigious investment company whose satisfaction with her work was very important to the firm.

  The firm. Hum. That was the other question Millicent pondered. Would she continue working after she married Cy? She’d like to continue with some type of financial independence, but, of course, her place would be beside her husband, and since he was very wealthy, money wouldn’t be an issue for her. Would he give her an allowance, equal access to a joint bank account? Or would it be a monthly or quarterly sum to deposit in the bank of her choice? There was so much about Cy she didn’t know!

  One thing she did know through her relationship with Sister Vivian, taking care of a busy husband was a full-time job! Millicent intended to be Cy’s right-hand woman. She wanted to help him with everything, especially as he moved farther into the ministry. Millicent smiled as she thought of how well she and Cy worked together. She was certain he would pastor his own church at some point, and then her responsibilities as first lady would be tremendous. Until then, she would ask Sister Vivian to take her under her wing and show her the ropes, and Millicent couldn’t think of a better woman to emulate. Vivian had it all, a beautiful home, wonderful husband and fabulous children.

  Children! It was something Millicent hadn’t considered. Would Cy want children? Would she? At thirty-two, it was something she would have to decide before long. Perhaps it was the fact she was an only child or her limited experience being around children. Or it could be her disdain for the unruly, crying, bratty children she encountered in church and other public places, but the thought of changing a smelly diaper or dabbing an infant’s spittle made her stomach churn. She couldn’t see herself doing that in a million years. Maybe she and Cy would be content to work for the Kingdom. Maybe their children could be various areas of ministry. She could give back to the human race by being a mentor and role model for teenage girls and young women. Yes, teenagers she could handle, but a toddler? Not as likely. Still, the thought of a child with Cy had its merits. Their baby would be gorgeous. A little boy who looked just like Cy, a son to carry on their legacy and their name. A tangible demonstration of the immense love she and Cy felt for each other. Well, maybe she could handle one child, with an assistant and a nanny, of course.

  Goodness, managing the household staff alone would require a great deal of organization. She knew Cy lived in a penthouse, but after their marriage, she was certain he’d think it best for them to buy a home—investing in their future. More appropriate to their status as a married couple, especially with the dinners and holiday parties and other social functions they’d be hosting. They would need a home that adequately displayed their social standing. Millicent thought about the possibilities. Beverly Hills was nice, but overrated. Bel Air was exclusive but overpriced. No, Cy would probably want to have a view of the ocean. Perhaps he’d like a home in the Marina or Playa del Rey or Palos Verdes or lovely Pacific Palisades, with their equally spectacular views of both ocean and mountain. The possibilities were endless, and of course, it also depended on what her husband’s desires were. She probably didn’t need to put a lot more energy into it until she’d discussed it with him. All these thoughts were making her absolutely giddy. She smiled widely and almost laughed out loud. The new male coworker chose this moment to walk by her doorway.

  “I hope that smile is for me.” He winked.

  Millicent grabbed her reports and headed for the door. Not! Passing him, she looked back and returned the wink. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out!” She could feel his eyes boring into her backside as she sashayed down the hall and into the conference room.

  S.O.S.—The Sanctity of Sisterhood

  Strands of Yolanda Adams’s singing could be heard coming from the hotel’s ample sound system amid the din of voices in the crowded ballroom. All the seats were filled, and many women, some of whom had taken off their shoes or sat on the floor, were lining the walls. Vivian looked out at the expectant audience with a myriad of feelings and emotions. So much had happened in these past four meetings, beyond her wildest expectations. Breakthroughs had been made. Emotionally crippled women were on their way to being whole. The love and compassion and forgiveness of God had replaced shame and depression and guilt. True, the work was only beginning, and not everyone who attended was reached, but many, many lives had been set free by, as the Scriptures declared, “the blood of the lamb and the word of your testimony.”

  Something else had happened, too. A rapport had developed between the pastors’ wives and female congregants that hadn’t been there before. Even Vivian had been surprised at the first ladies’ honesty in recounting the tests and trials of their personal lives. They had stood naked and not ashamed before these sisters of different cultures and economic backgrounds and bared their souls. Suddenly, the ladies were not these untouchable, seemingly perfect superwomen with perfect families and perfect lives, but they were women just like their members, with the same struggles, the same fears and, as shocking as it was to some, the same failures as everybody else. The pastors’ wives had been real with these daughters of God. And in being honest with them, the women were more able to be honest with themselves, to admit their faults and their fears. Vivian understood that the healing hadn’t occurred only with the attendees, but that some of the first ladies had experienced healing as well.

  That change was no more evident than in her best friend, Tai. Where before, Tai would have played a supporting role, she had emerged as one of the most sought after speakers during the informal times of counseling and group discussions. Her honest portrayal of life as a minister’s wife had given the attendees a new understanding of just how complicated and difficult that position was to fill. Vivian still marveled at Tai’s speech earlier in the day when she recapped her popular message, “If He Ain’t Yo’ Husband, It’s Defiled,” the speech that had replaced Vivian’s “Other Women—Ourselves” suggestion and which Tai delivered during the Sacred Sex portion of the conference.

  A particularly defining moment came during the question and answer period following each recap. One of the attendees, an attractive, young single woman, had asked why there seemed to be hostility between some pastors’ wives and their young, attractive, single church members.

  Tai had, from her own experiences, recounted how many times women had befriended her only to find out these women really wanted her husband. Without going into details, she confessed that she had endured infidelity early in her marriage. The audience did a collective gasp when Tai quite boldly stated that it had happened more than once that a female church member had been all too willing to seek copulation instead of counseling behind her husband’s office door. She admitted that she didn’t know how many of them had succeeded. Without telling them she was even now dealing with an adulterous situation, Tai assured the conference attendees that if they felt a chill in the air surrounding their first ladies, it may be a result of problems with adultery or near adultery in their marriages. While not condoning such behavior by these women, she understood why pastors’ wives were often reluctant to let their guard down and befriend the single females in their congregations, especially if they were attractive. She admitted that while single women were most often targeted, there had been affairs between pastors and married parishioners.

  She was also careful to stress that not all pastors cheated on their wives and most women in the church were there to seek God and not opportunities to commit adultery. She beseeched the listeners to forgive the pastors’ wives who may have shunned their attempts at friendship or halted their advances within the ministry and to understand that pastors’ wives were women, too, with the same feelings of intimidation and inadequacy and not-good-enough issues all women faced from time to time. She had turned to the pastors’ wives on the roster then and admonished them to not prejudge the women in their congregations and to not put them all i
n the same category, and to realize that every attractive single woman in the church was not after their husbands. She admitted that sometimes she placed more blame on the woman than she did her husband and that wasn’t right. She implored the listeners to understand that women with whom their husbands had affairs looked just like them—sincere, trustworthy, honestly seeking God. They shouted and clapped and prayed and cried and spoke in tongues and then used those same tongues to satisfy men who were not their husbands, men who instead of leading them toward God were leading them to a turned-down bed and a night of illicit ecstasy.

  She called on the women within the sound of her voice to take up the spirit of the summit, the sanctity of sisterhood. She asked that a spirit of solidarity be formed in the hearts and lives of women, to denounce the enemy when he came in the form of an overture from a married man and to “say no to the ho’ show.” Her tapes sold out.

  Vivian thought of these and other comments she’d heard during the past four weeks as she prepared to make the closing speech. She had already received more than a dozen requests to host the S.O.S. Summit in other churches. And she knew she was going to accept as many invitations as she could. She knew in the very fiber of her being this had been God’s plan all along.

  She smiled, thinking of Iyanla Vanzant’s luncheon message and her own personal favorite Iyanla quote, “If you see crazy coming, cross the street.” Iyanla had encouraged the women to respect themselves and to realize that love of self was essential to loving God. She encouraged the women attending to get out of crazy relationships, crazy behavior and crazy situations that were disrupting their happiness. Like a cheerleader for attitude adjustments, she rallied this family of women to victory in overcoming negative situations in their lives.