Sunday morning, Abe had to strip down to his undershirt and slacks under his robe. The unseasonably warm weather did not prevent The Kid Street Daycare from running their heat. The camera crew was in place after a short pre-service interview. The tiny playroom appeared to be filled to capacity with the rented adult-sized chairs. The members of his background chorus were poised with their praise. The key member, his Uncle Charley, was able to get the word out to the old and some of the new members. The presence of the news crew could have possibly brought out the rest.
Abe was pitch perfect as he delivered the amalgamation of adages and anecdotes he’d put together. He squelched the notion to deviate from his outline and impart what was on his heart once he felt the rhythm of his words. He reminded himself he was being taped and that the best television was scripted.
Abe shook hands and graciously thanked the reporter who said she would be in touch. His back was a pool of sweat and his robe was the perfect sponge. How long did he have to stay and greet the crowd? He felt himself judging the sincerity of everyone’s commendation. He felt dizzy, but he held his mask in place.
A trustee approached with a sealed envelope addressed to him that was placed inside the offering basket. Abe broke the seal on the envelope as Mother Shempy and her teenaged granddaughter approached.
“Pastor Townsend,” Mother Shempy said, “I’m so, so glad that y’all decided to go on with service despite the circumstances. I started to get worried. Lord knows what I would have done if I had to try and find another church.”
“See, the Lord worked it out for ya.” Abe leaned in for a church hug, which was contact with the arms and the chest, but none of the rest of the body.
“He sure did. You’ve met my granddaughter, Melanie, haven’t you, Pastor?”
“I believe I have, Mother Shempy,” Abe said, taking the young girl’s hand and pumping it twice in a handshake before releasing it. “How are you, Melanie? Did you enjoy the service?”
Melanie shrugged her shoulders then added, “Nana’s got District cable, and all she watches is the church channel. You better not change her channel before the Bishop Robbie Robinson Show goes off, although most of the time she is already asleep. I love to watch their choir. Bishop Robinson preached on almost the same thing that you did today, Pastor Townsend. Isn’t that funny?”
Abe would have been embarrassed. He might have even fainted dead away if he weren’t looking at the note just passed to him.
Pastor Townsend,
Great sermon. Seasons indeed change. What you need is a publicist to help polish your image and navigate you through your next phase of ministry, which promises to be fruitful if you plan for the Harvest. I’ll be in touch.
A friend.
“It’s funny how that happens, right, Pastor Abe?” the girl persisted.
“No. Actually, sweetie, it happens quite often. It’s what you call confirmation,” Abe said as he searched the sparse crowd for the source of his anonymous offer.
Chapter 5
A Tale of Two Pastors
Alexis rushed from the county Board of Education building where she was covering a special school board hearing to get into the production van with Danny Mitchell, her camera man. Having a special report on the Inside 7 segment to air in less than fifteen minutes didn’t mean her job stopped. That was the hectic life of an assignment reporter. She had barely taped her wrap up on the Harvest story before she had to get set up in Upper Marlboro for the beginning of the school board session. She had cut the squares, laying the voice tracks for the promos, shooting the lead-in live with the anchor in the studio, and pre-taped the interviews, but left it in the hands of Martie and the crew to do the patchwork. She couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.
They sat in rush hour traffic, but as far as she was concerned she had the best seat in the house. One of the monitors in the back of the van hooked up to roof-top satellites used to send live feed directly to the studio was also a television monitor. She didn’t care about the five-minute footage of her with school board members; she’d watch that later on. Right now, the World Report was on mute. As the program rolled into its last station break, they aired her promo piece. She scrambled to find the right knob to turn up the volume.
“I’m Alexis Montgomery. Join me with Lizzy London on the Inside 7 segment as we take a closer look into the mysterious Easter Church Inferno and the ongoing investigations through the eyes of its two very different religious leaders in a segment I call, A Tale of Two Pastors. That’s the Inside 7 segment, tonight at 7:30.”
Alexis was mesmerized by the title frame, THE EASTER CHURCH INFERNO, etched out in computer simulated flames. She could envision subsequent reports baring that same brand. She remembered the thrill of sitting under the hot lights coated with the heavy cake make-up for the cameras, knowing that just the right angle would bring every pore on her face into focus for all of D.C., Maryland, and Northern Virginia to see. The make-up was so much different from the mineral blush and tinted lip gloss she applied herself while on assignment. Her hair was always a hit-or-miss and at the mercy of the environment. When it was hot and humid, her hair was usually a hot mess if it weren’t freshly done. If it were cold and rainy, and she was on assignment outside, she had several hats to match her outerwear because her wind-blown look could sometimes go awry. She could definitely get use to the beauty treatment of an anchor.
Catcalls from the guys in the van congratulating her on her upcoming investigative debut brought her back to focus. She pulled out her cell phone to call her grandfather who she had not seen since leaving Kannapolis a little less than a year ago. Updates by phone were all they shared. He would tell her he’s praying for her and remind her that the world is a wilderness without Jesus. To him she was on this quest to a dangerous and unknown destination if it didn’t soon lead to a good church home and a husband to cover her. She wanted to tell him about her story and convince him how good and honorable it was to be committed to finding out the truth. As the phone rang she realized it was Wednesday, the day her grandfather practically encamped in church all day and night. She figured she could at least leave a message.
Just then one of the guys called out, “Who woulda thunk Milky Montgomery would be sitting across from Lizzy London?”
She extinguished the call before leaving a message. The nickname bringing to mind the disappointment she had brought upon her grandfather. One segment wouldn’t change that fact.
“Call me Alexis, or don’t refer to me at all,” she shouted. Morons.
They hemmed and hawed and peeled off insincere apologies that Alexis tried her best to ignore. She felt her excitement returning as the theme for the Inside 7 segment played, and the host, Lizzy London, provided an overview of the content and context of the night’s show for the viewing audience. Then she introduced the special reporters. The format usually split the thirty minute show between two stories, the weightier of the two usually going first. The producers preferred to end with a warm and fuzzy story.
They did not know what to make of her story that was not quite a high-crime piece and not quite a human interest piece either, but certainly both. Alexis’s story was allotted fifteen minutes, one station break, which was practically the whole show. She heard Lizzy whisper into the microphone during countdown that she hoped the interns had scanned the mail in the mailbag because if Alexis’s piece turned out to be fluff, they’d have to cut off the second half and use the viewers’ response as filler. Alexis didn’t know whether to take the fact that she had the bulk of the show as the sacrifice of a slow news week or a bout of the station’s confidence in the credence of the story. She chose to believe the latter. Forget Lizzy London.
“But first, a church and pillar of the community burns to the ground on Easter Sunday marking the end of one man’s tenure as pastor and the beginning of another. Coincidental or circumstantial? For this we go to Alexis Montgomery.”
Lizzy was known for stealing a reporter’s thunder in her improvised i
ntroduction, especially if it were breaking news. She did it just to mess with the newbies who were slaves to the teleprompter. Alexis remembered sitting right off her shoulder scrambling to alter the words on the script so that her lead-in didn’t sound like an extension of Lizzy’s intro. It was like playing a game of Taboo as she tried not to repeat the same words while sounding poised and provocative at the same time. She watched herself blunder, but felt she recovered well on camera.
“A church ablaze on Easter Sunday could be viewed by many as a sign. A deliberate sign says fire officials. Fire crews were sent to a building that has been a part of the Capitol Heights community for fifty years, a church that just recently underwent a very drastic and dramatic leadership change. Who set the Harvest Baptist Church on fire? Investigators have ruled this case arson. Could the tension that was brewing on the inside just months before ignite someone, who once was or still is a part of this congregation, to commit such a crime? I start my investigation with the two men who knew and loved the church more than anybody—the current and former pastor of that church—as we take an in-depth look into A Tale of Two Pastors.”
Alexis sighed a breath of relief as the story cut away from her live-in-studio to pre-recorded footage of Pastor Abe Townsend conducting service. He was preaching a message of prosperity to congregants forced to form tight rows between cots in a daycare classroom across the street from the old Harvest edifice. The scene shifted, and Alexis and Abe were out front walking along the gate of the badly damaged church building to set the scene for their interview.
The guys in the van with her had lost interest and began a noisy debate of their own. As the van inched along a congested 295, Alexis had to strain to hear the program.
“It’s Sunday, and you are about to preach a message, no doubt filled with inspiration and hope. Is there hope for the Harvest Baptist Church family in the wake of this tragedy?” Alexis led him to their first stopping point marked beforehand so that the microphone buoyed above them could pick up their voices as opposed to using the handheld.
“Oh, I believe so, Alexis,” Abe said, accompanied by nervous laughter. “Hope is the basis of our faith.”
“Take me back, if you will, to Easter Sunday service. Was there anything unusual about that day?”
“Nothing whatsoever,” Abe was quick to say. His eyes pleaded to know where her line of questioning was going. “Besides the fact that one of our trusty deacons was late with the keys and we got a late start, everything else was routine.”
Late? Weren’t fire crews on the scene by two o’clock? Alexis wondered while she watched. Why didn’t she pick up on that earlier and ask him more about the time frame? What Black Baptist church started late and got out early on Easter Sunday?
“You came by your pastorate by unusual means. Your predecessor decided to move on to another church. A decision met with great opposition. The church was literally torn apart with some deciding to stay and some deciding to go with him. What made you step in under those circumstances?”
Abe was a bobble head doll constantly nodding to her inquiries. “God does His greatest work through our adversity,” he said.
“Was there adversity even after you took over as pastor?” Alexis fired off.
“Let me put it to you this way, we had to reorganize and rebuild. We added some new members to the fold. Those members that I acquired kept the Harvest legacy intact. They loved their church tremendously and wanted to continue the work this church was known for in this community. Although, it appears now that we must begin again.” Abe glanced over his shoulder at the charred church building for emphasis.
“Some would say that to petition a pastor to prevent a move, as some of your members have done, is extreme. Could there be anyone in that central group that could want to see the church destroyed?”
“I am not a judge or jury. That’s not my job. It just seems unlikely and counterproductive to fight to stay at this household of faith, and then turn around and burn it down,” Abe countered without hesitation.
He knew all the right words to say, Alexis remembered thinking. She was familiar with pastors who used the ideals of God’s Word as a cover so they didn’t have to relate to what was going on. Her grandfather was the prime example. She was raised to believe that God’s Word was a shield and buckler, but every now and again she needed him to remove the cover and let her see the cracks and dents in his armor.
“There are some critics in this community that have complained that the church has not been the same warm and inviting place as it once was,” Alexis said mainly to rattle Abe, who seemed to be answering on autopilot. “What do you say to those people, who used to rely on the food pantry and other resources from this church? They refer to you as just a placeholder as if someone else behind the scenes is actually running this church.”
Pursed lips, and then a ponderous look skyward broke up the monotony of the Q&A. From the light reflected off Abe’s hazel eyes, Alexis thought she could see a tear, for once showing a real humanity.
“People on the outside are always going to talk. I may not lead the church like it has been run in the past,” Abe said, reaching out for the gate for support. “They’ve got to understand I am just a man. With the training I received, I do the best I can until I get my power and direction from God. I expect Him to cast new vision for this church. Hearsay is not going to squelch what we are trying to do for God.”
“So you will rebuild?” Alexis asked.
“Yes, we will.”
“In this area?”
“I don’t see why not. This area has nurtured us in our time of need.”
“Even before this fire, the church was facing financial difficulty. Tell me about that.”
“Well, times are hard for everyone. The church is no exception. Some people shut down when times are hard, shy away from the church. We are a small church that has to rely solely on the regular giving of its members and donations, of course. We were prayerful, because between repairs that didn’t get done after Tropical Storm Roberto flew in here late fall and the general upkeep, we had to cut back. Cut backs on weekday services to conserve energy, cut backs on printed programs and many, many of our services for the homeless in this community, just to name a few.”
“So the church has had a recent claim through their insurance policy?” Alexis asked pointedly.
A blank expression and more mindless head-nodding told Alexis that Abe was lost.
“The other . . . um, my predecessor initiated that claim. Why the work wasn’t completed, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Has your staff contacted your insurance agent, and are they prepared to pay out the half a million dollars you will need to rebuild your church?”
“That is the hope,” Abe whispered.
“Insurance figures and scams are the major motive in an arson case. Who could stand to benefit from the policy taken out on this church?”
“The kingdom, Ms. Montgomery,” Abe replied forcefully. “The insurance money, like all our offerings, will be used for the up building of His kingdom and the furtherance of the gospel. We just want to hold church and praise God.”
There was a lot more she had wanted to ask him, but she remembered feeling like she would only be spinning wheels. She had done her job. She was like a prosecutor trying to show just cause, or at least plant enough curiosity in the story that the station would want to do a follow-up.
The producers decided to fade into another clip from Abe’s sermon at that point.
“Get ready for spring. Plant your seeds now. Promotion is on the way.” A cloaked Abe shouted from the pulpit as the program headed to station break.
Alexis temporarily lost possession of the television monitor as the guys voted to turn the station to one that might be reporting on the traffic nightmare they had found themselves in. Rather than play a game of keep away with them, she appealed to them to use the radio. She was anxious to see Pastor Willie Green’s side of the interview. Without footage of him in his elem
ent, she had a fear that her piece would appear very one-sided.
When she regained control of the monitor, the second half of her piece was already in progress.
“I caught up with Pastor Willie Green who is the co-pastor here with his wife at what would seem like the reincarnation of his former church aptly renamed Pleasant Harvest Baptist Church. They are preparing to celebrate their 50th church anniversary this year with the theme—‘Back to Basics, Back to Jesus.’”
Alexis was already unsatisfied and blaming Pastor Vanessa for not letting her get sermon sound-bites. They shot his interview in his office and the outdated wood paneling looked atrocious on camera.
“You have been gone from Harvest Baptist Church for four months now,” Alexis started.
“That’s right, since the first of January,” Willie said.
“And you get the anonymous call that the church that you used to lead is on fire. Not even the current pastor got that courtesy. What do you make of that?”
“Sincerely, I don’t know. Everything from that point was like a blur. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t question it. I just reacted,” Willie reflected.
“Who made the dag-on call!” she shouted to herself on the monitor. She couldn’t believe she didn’t follow-up with that question.
“Then you, and what seemed like your entire congregation, were the first on the scene.”
“Yes. We had just finished up service. It was like rushing to the hospital when you find out that one of your members or loved ones has been in an accident. We were simply overjoyed that no one was hurt. Praising God for sparing lives,” Willie added before Alexis could ask a question.
“When I interviewed you that day, arson had not been confirmed, but I asked you then was there anyone you suspected who could have started this fire.” Alexis, who was sitting across from Willie at his desk, referred to her notes. “You said whether someone set it or it caught fire itself, God allowed it. You also said God would reveal the truth.”
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