The Praise the Lords, were kind of feeble-sounding, so Denzelle came out of the pulpit and said, “Praise the Lord, everybody. What’s wrong with y’all tonight? We had enough gas money to get here. We’re in our right minds—”
“Some of us are, Pastor,” Lynette Smith called from the back of the church, causing folks to laugh and relax and begin to let the Holy Ghost start to flow again through the church. She always wished that the pastor wouldn’t let Sister Doreene be on the Praise and Worship Team because the girl always managed to throw a wet blanket on the fires of the Holy Ghost when she opened her mouth to testify. She knew that in this case Reverend Flowers was being kind and compassionate. But sometimes that wasn’t all it was cracked up to be—especially in the case of Sister Doreene.
“… Okay,” Denzelle said, flashing the smile that got him in so much trouble, “some of us can praise the Lord because we are in our right minds. And the rest of us can praise Him for giving us enough money to buy our medications so that we can think we are in our right minds.”
“Praise the Lord, everybody” came from one of the ushers sitting on a pew in the back of the church.
By now everybody was smiling and laughing and warming back up. Denzelle decided that he would change the service around a bit. One of the things that he really liked about his Friday-night services was that they could relax traditional service protocol and follow God’s lead concerning what to do and when and how to do it. He said, “You know something, church, tonight we are going to get up and greet each other in a big hug of Christian love. Go find somebody you haven’t seen all week and tell them I love you, and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”
Curtis came out of the pulpit and headed straight to Yvonne. He wrapped her up in a big, warm hug, kissed her cheek, took in the lovely fragrance of her Stella McCartney perfume, and said, “I love you and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”
Yvonne stood there in Curtis’s warm and secure embrace, trying to return this church greeting, but found that she couldn’t say a word. So she hugged him back and mumbled out, “Ditto.”
Curtis laughed and kissed her soft cheek again and then went back to his seat. Maurice and Trina just looked at each other. Everybody else was hugging everybody they could find. Curtis had hugged only Yvonne and then gone back to his seat to sit down.
Denzelle decided he needed to go back up in the pulpit when he saw the choir making its way to the choir loft, and two women, whose offers to bring dinner by his house he’d turned down, making a beeline in his direction. When one of the women saw him going back into the pulpit, she ran toward the pastor and almost fell flat on her butt, when Denzelle, who used to be a star basketball player for Eva T. back in the early eighties, leaped out of her way and back up to his podium.
Charles Robinson, who was sitting with his boy and Rumpshakers’ manager, Pierre, started laughing. He leaned over and whispered, “Pierre, man, playah wasn’t playin’, was he?”
“Naw, boss,” Pierre said, cracking up and reaching out his fist for some dap from Charles. “Baby girl was on a mission, and playah wasn’t havin’ it. You know I love coming to Denzelle’s church.”
“Me, too,” Charles said as he took a quick peek at Veronica, who was looking all sweet and churchy in a pale pink St. John dress that wrapped around her body like it was some GLAD wrap trying to keep all of that fresh fineness in. He nudged at Pierre, who was looking toward the back of the church, nodded in Veronica’s direction, and said, “Check it out.”
Pierre turned back around and said, “No, you better check that out.”
Charles frowned. There was Robert Washington standing in the back waiting for an usher to seat him and his woman in the crowded church. The head usher saw them, too. He stared up at the pastor, waiting for a sign as to what to do.
Veronica Washington was the usher’s neighbor. He remembered the day Veronica called him and his wife in tears because Robert had a Triangle Company moving van sitting in her driveway and three movers standing at the door waiting for their orders. Without any warning, Robert had ordered movers to Veronica’s house so he could live with that woman the usher had seen him sneaking around with in Cary because he was dumb enough to believe that he wasn’t going to run into anybody from Durham or Raleigh in Cary, North Carolina—a suburban enclave located between both cities.
His wife had told Veronica to calm down and get herself together. The two of them prayed over the phone while the movers took a seat on the front steps, and the usher went and burned a complete CD of Beyoncé’s Irreplaceable, to be played over and over and over again until the move was complete. It worked. The Lord blessed Veronica with courage and grace she didn’t even know she had. That You must not know ’bout me … you must not know ’bout me, playing constantly, tickled the movers to no end, even though it had made Robert feel like he would go crazy every time it started up again.
The movers figured out exactly what was going on when Robert strolled up to the front door, determined to supervise and control a move at the house he no longer resided in, and found the head usher/neighbor, who was a locksmith by profession, busy changing every single lock in the house. The movers, who were now sitting in lawn chairs and sipping on fresh-brewed gourmet coffee, knew that Veronica was a classy lady. They favored her, ignored Robert, who had to wait in his car during the move, and made sure nothing left that house that needed to stay there.
Denzelle stared at that grinning, raunchy negro marring the back of his church and frowned. He couldn’t help but think about Malachi 2:16: “For I hate divorce!” says the Lord, the God of Israel. “It is as cruel as putting on a victim’s bloodstained coat,” says the Lord God Almighty. “So guard yourself; always remain loyal to your wife.” The first time he’d read that scripture, it had cut through him like the sharpest knife. It was ten years ago and his divorce papers had just arrived in the mail. Denzelle had read the papers, read that scripture, and then gone and sat on his back porch and cried like a baby. That Word hurt him down to the bone. But today he really understood what God was telling him, looking at Robert Washington flaunting around with his woman, Tracey Parsons. This kind of thing was a disgrace, and it was cruel.
Reverend Flowers made eye contact with the usher, who in turn gave the signal to the other ushers to go sit down and act like they didn’t see Robert and the woman with the Stewie-in-Family-Guy-shaped head. Robert bristled, with his nose flaring and air puffing up in the front of his mouth, making him look like a pissed-off swamp monkey. His woman Stewie was hot, and walked right out of the church, with Robert hot on her tail.
The choir was now in place and the musicians started playing the instrumental part of one of the pastor’s favorite songs, which was sure to have folks up on their feet dancing and praising the Lord. But Denzelle didn’t want to stifle the flow of the Holy Ghost when things heated up and decided that he needed to make the presentation right now before the choir started singing.
He motioned for the musicians to calm down for a minute, and then signaled for Curtis and Maurice to join him at the pulpit podium. He said, “New Jerusalem is one of the fastest-growing Gospel United Churches in the Triangle. We’ve been so blessed. We celebrated our mortgage burning a year ago, we have money invested and our investments are earning money, we own property outside of this church, we have built and furnished more houses for Habitat for Humanity than any church, black or white, in Raleigh, and our monthly Friday-night services have been constantly gaining in popularity throughout the Triangle.
“Now, ever since we started our Friday-night services, one thing we decided to do was help someone out. Coach Curtis Parker and Coach Maurice Fountain have been called to lead our beloved Fighting Panthers to a mighty victory this season. I believe that they have a chance to make it into the SNAC play-offs, and at some point make a bid for an invitation to the NCAA dance.”
There were a lot of Panthers in the congregation, and they started cheering, “Gooooooo Panthers!!!!”
&
nbsp; “In the name of Jesus,” Denzelle said, laughing, “we are going to the dance. But to get there takes faith, perseverance, and preparation. Our coaches need our help and we prayed as a congregation, and God led us to give you all this.” Denzelle reached inside of his breast pocket and then put two checks in Curtis’s hand. The first was for the expected $18,776. The second, from Charles Robinson, was for an additional ten grand. It was a miracle.
Hours ago, Curtis had walked out of the president’s office facing deep slices into his budget. And now the Lord had made up for the deficit and given them far more than he ever expected to carry the team through. The Lord had truly supplied their every need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus. Curtis felt himself tear up, and prayed that he wouldn’t punk out and cry. He glanced over at Maurice and saw that Maurice was fighting that exact same battle. They both laughed through the tears, thankful that the good Lord didn’t let one fall.
At that moment, Trina was so happy she was a female and could cry shamelessly. Yvonne, who didn’t cry as easily as most folks, felt her eyes watering. She stood up and said, “Praise the Lord,” only to be followed by the rest of the congregation. She looked at Curtis struggling to man up and not cry, and her heart was touched. This was the kind of man she would love to have in her life.
A twinge of sadness swept across Yvonne’s heart when it occurred to her that Regina Young was a part of Curtis Parker’s life. She gave that sorrow over to the Lord and was encouraged with Holy Ghost–anointed joy when God reminded her that He was her true source of joy and contentment, and that she was not to worry because He had everything in control. All she had to do was trust Him and be patient because her blessings were on the way.
Denzelle gave both of the coaches that good old black boy hug, where they leaned toward one another, grasped hands, and parted with a firm pat on the back. He went and sat back down, now ready to hear the choir throw down on the Mississippi Mass Choir’s “I’m Not Tired Yet”: I’ve been runnin’ for Jesus a long time … and I’m not tired yet.
Maurice liked this song, too. He loved that earthy, warrior-for-Jesus-sounding voice of the soloist on the CD. That lady sounded like she’d really been runnin’ for Jesus since she put on her first pair of walking shoes. He turned around to see who the soloist was, and was a bit disappointed to discover that it was the woman with the bodunkadunk booty in the lobby. He couldn’t help but wonder if a sister so bent on swinging that thing in full view of the pastor could really throw down on a song that required a good dose of the Holy Ghost to make the delivery just right.
The musicians gave a robust and hot run of the introduction of the song, getting folks up off their feet before anyone sang one note. Denzelle stood up and turned around, grinning, just ready to be blessed with this song. The musicians played the introduction one more time, wondering if the soloist had missed her cue. She didn’t open her mouth, so they played the intro one extra time for good measure, silently lifting the girl up in prayer.
The choir director started clapping on that third cue, and glanced over to the musicians, indicating that they should give the song intro one more run to make it look as if they were doing this on purpose. She didn’t know what was wrong with the soloist this evening. She’d picked this song because it was on the pastor’s list of favorites, and the pastor was like her brother. She’d also picked this song because she knew the soloist, who loved to get attention, would show out for the company, or all of the visitors in the audience. She also knew Miss Lady had a crush on the pastor and would work extra hard to work that song.
But Bodunkadunk would not open her mouth. She put her hand on her hip and then curled up her lips when they started the song a fifth time. Miss Thing was mad, and she’d been mad ever since she saw her pastor dodging those two heifers during the meet-and-greet, making it clear they were trying to be his woman. She thought she’d made it clear to all of the pastor’s wannabe boos that she was the Head Wannabe Boo In Charge at this church. Pastor Flowers needed to quit ducking and dodging heifers and make a choice. She knew she had the biggest booty of all the women chasing after the pastor. He was a black man, and what black man didn’t like a big booty, especially when it was attached to a woman who could sing?
By now the choir director and the musicians were done with fooling around with this girl and her tantrum. She nodded for the musicians to change the song and gave a signal to one of the tenors to come up and sing another one of the pastor’s favorites, Marvin Sapp’s “Never Would Have Made It.” But they couldn’t get past the first chords before Bodunkadunk sucked on her teeth real loud into the microphone, breathed out like she was too through, and then leaned down and popped Reverend Flowers upside the head.
Charles and Pierre were in the back of the church all under the pews, they were laughing so hard. Charles said, “I saw it coming, man … I saw it coming. When Big Booty wouldn’t sing after the second long intro to the song, I knew something was up. I don’t know why Denzelle won’t check these heifers in his church.”
“He can’t do that, boss—not unless he is clear that he is not going to try and hit on that. You know that is the only way a brother can brush off a sister with a bodunkadunk hanging off the back of her like that, who also knows the power of a big butt.”
“You ain’t never lied, playah,” Charles said, and sat up straight to see what else was going to happen. Maybe he did need to join church if all of this was happening in here. He’d wait on the saved thing, though. Getting saved required a bit too much from a brother.
Denzelle was stunned. Yarborough had told him about flirting with that girl, said she was crazy and a mess waiting to happen. He massaged the back of his head and gave that girl a look that clearly said, “Hit me again and I’m gone forget I’m a preacher and a gentleman.”
Miss Thang had been around before coming back to church. She didn’t miss one word of that unspoken message and made to leave the sanctuary. But she wasn’t the only one mad at Reverend Flowers for not paying attention to her. The two women he had jumped away from now got bold and walked down to the front of the church and stood there, feet apart, hands on hips, with “What you gone do now, Pastor?” expressions on their faces. As if that wasn’t enough trouble, one of the woman ushers came off from the side, picked up a collection plate and tossed it, Frisbee-style, into the pulpit. All three men jumped up as if they were intercepting a pass to catch the plate. It slid past Denzelle’s hand, and Curtis reached out and caught it.
“Thanks, Coach,” Denzelle mumbled and went up to the podium, praying for God to help him out of this mess. He whispered, “I’m sorry, Jesus. You’ve been trying to tell me to straighten up and fly right. This is my deathly wages for my many sins. Lord, I confess this sin of lust and selfishness and fornication. I repent, Lord, in the name of Jesus. And I ask to be forgiven, delivered, and set free.”
“Amen!” “Amen!” “Amen!” came from all around the church, which had heard this prayer clearly over their very high-tech and sophisticated sound system. “Hallelujah!” was shouted everywhere. Folks stood on their feet and began praising God. Despite all of his wayward ways, New Jerusalem loved their pastor. A whole lot of them had been praying for him, and they’d been praying for their church to be set free from that Jezebel spirit on those women who kept trying to run and ruin their beloved church.
The musicians took their cue from the congregation and started playing “Never Would Have Made It” until the soloist could get to the microphone. The choir director was crying. She had been praying so hard for her play brother, and was blessed beyond measure to see him repent and be set free. What a powerful testimony to the entire church to see their pastor freed from this yoke of sin.
Tears were streaming down Denzelle’s cheeks. For the second time this evening, the Book of Malachi was on his heart. This time, Malachi 2:5–8 sliced through him, convicting Denzelle Flowers down to the bone when he thought of what God had to say to him with this scripture, which read:
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sp; “‘The purpose of my covenant with the Levites was to bring life and peace, and this is what I gave them. This called for reverence from them, and they greatly revered me and stood in awe of my name. They passed on to the people all the truth they received from me. They did not lie or cheat; they walked with me, living good and righteous lives, and they turned many from lives of sin. The priests’ lips should guard knowledge, and people should go to them for instruction, for the priests are the messengers of the Lord Almighty. But not you! You have left God’s paths. Your “guidance” has caused many to stumble into sin. You have corrupted the covenant I made with the Levites,’ says the Lord Almighty.”
Denzelle’s shoulders shook from the sorrow and sobs tearing through him. He always knew folks in his congregation loved him. But he never knew how hard they’d been praying for him until right now. He didn’t understand and truthfully didn’t want to understand how his sin had hurt and injured them so deeply. He didn’t know that they had seen it all and they loved him in spite of himself. And he was in awe of God’s mercy, grace, and forgiveness to a sinner like himself. He walked out of that pulpit and went down to the altar to rededicate his life to Christ.
Maurice went to stand next to him. Curtis remained in the pulpit, feet feeling like lead, as he resisted the urging of the Holy Ghost to go and join Denzelle at that altar. He wasn’t ready. He hoped the Rapture wasn’t on the horizon because today he wasn’t ready.
Charles’s heart was convicted, and he grabbed the back of the pew to stop himself from going down to that altar and getting saved. This was the first time in his life that he’d ever wanted to get saved. Watching Denzelle be transformed in front of his very eyes was a testimony to the power of the Lord he’d never forget. He took a step and then sat down when he remembered all the money he stood to lose if he went down to that altar.
Up at the College Page 9