“No!” she hollered back.
Who does she think she is? But despite his outward dissent, Mark knew he was blessed to have a wife who made such a fuss over him.
He saved face with Jonathan by saying that something else had come up. It wasn’t actually a lie. Something had come up—his wife’s veto.
“Pastor, maybe you could join us virtually,” Jonathan suggested. “You could use the FaceTime app on your iPad and I’ll connect using mine.”
“Oh. So, like a videoconference?”
“Exactly.”
“That’ll work. Email me the agenda and the numbers. I’ll figure out how to use the app thing on my wife’s tablet by tomorrow.”
Mark fiddled with the app for a while and decided that his office was the best place to set up shop for the meeting. Then he opened the agenda Jonathan had sent him. Immediately, he realized why Jonathan had been so persistent about Mark’s attendance.
Chapter 22
Jonathan’s image was the first to appear onscreen. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Mark replied. “Can you see and hear me, too?”
“Loud and clear,” Jonathan confirmed. “I’m going to set the camera up at the table where you’d normally sit. How’s that?”
“Excellent.”
The streaming video bounced around before settling in a spot that gave Mark a clear view of the men surrounding the table. “Where’s Kit?”
Rev. Jackson answered, “He couldn’t make it tonight.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Marshall obviously wasn’t used to videoconferencing. He gave Jackson a silly smile that he probably wouldn’t have if the pastor was physically present in the room.
Mark put him on the spot. “Marshall, where’s Kit?”
“Uh…he’s…” Marshall’s eyes darted to the other men for help. When they offered none, he came clean, “He took off today.”
“I see.” Exactly what Mark thought.
“Let’s pray.” Jackson took over, opening their meeting with a request for guidance and understanding. “First thing is to look at last week’s numbers.”
Mark switched his attention to Amani’s computer. Jonathan reviewed the data, pointing out the most significant stats. “Attendance was down by approximately thirty percent, offering by forty-five.”
“How many came to Christ?” Mark asked.
“One in each service, sir,” Jonathan said.
There must have been something about viewing the men from a different perspective that gave Mark even more insight, because that camera told it all. “Why isn’t this information in the report, like we discussed?”
“I was…later advised not to,” Jonathan reported.
“Advised by whom?”
Rev. Jackson intervened, “We’ve decided that information can’t actually be determined. Some people accept Christ while sitting in their seats, without ever coming to the front altar.”
Jackson had a point, but Mark needed to make his. “If I ask for a report, I expect to have it.”
“Duly noted,” Marshall spurted with a mocking expression that was amplified by the underside of his chin, which Mark happened to be able to see well.
Mark wondered how being gone for a little over a week could usher in such disrespect. One man talking crazy, another man didn’t even show up for work.
Rev. Jackson charged ahead with the agenda. “Understandably, the numbers aren’t good. But we’ve had setbacks before. We’ll bounce back. Amen?”
“Amen” from all.
They reviewed the bids for choir robe cleaning and decided on a new company that was trying to gain traction in the community. The process for the children’s baptism program had been revised so that the children didn’t have to attend four classes before professing Christ publicly.
Rev. Jackson read the next item on the agenda. “Partnership with local chapter of fraternity, Theta Phi Mu, to host an event at New Vision.”
“That’s a no,” Mark quickly stated.
“Well, I think we ought to table it for now since Kit isn’t here. This was his idea,” Rev. Marshall said.
“It’s a no today, and it’s gonna be a no tomorrow, next week, next month, period,” Mark made himself perfectly clear.
“Pastor, I don’t think you understand. We’re in a crisis,” Marshall stressed. “New Vision is being dragged through the mud. We need to partner with a well-known, well-respected organization to let the community know that we’re still the place to be despite the smaller numbers and all the…you know…the scandal you’ve put us in.”
It’s a good thing the meeting was taking place on a couple of tablets instead of in person. Mark wanted to yell in Marshall’s face so hard, spit flew out, “You know me! You know I haven’t done anything wrong!”
But thanks to God’s infinite wisdom, the setting had been altered.
“Rev. Marshall, even though this is a scandal, the best thing we can do is assure the congregation that nothing scandalous has actually taken place. Furthermore, even if I had done something scandalous—which I have not, for the record—but if I had, that wouldn’t necessarily be a reason for members to leave their God-appointed posts in the church.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get all that,” Marshall jived. “What I don’t get is why you have a problem with Theta Phi Mu. What—you wanted to pledge when you were in college and they wouldn’t accept you?”
Mark wasn’t sure if Rev. Marshall really thought that was funny or if he was insulting Mark double-time by pretending to forget the fact that his pastor hadn’t gone to college. Again, the cyber-space between them had served its function well.
“It’s got nothing to do with this particular fraternity or any Greek letter organization, for that matter. Maybe Jonathan doesn’t know, but you and especially Kit know where I stand about keeping the exalting of Greek letters and the exalting of Christ separate. We don’t mix the two at New Vision.”
“Like I said, that’s Kit’s thing,” Rev. Marshall bowed out of the battle. He must have known there was no way he could win that one.
Rev. Jackson resumed the lead, covering the next month’s budget requests. Then Marshall discussed the temporary redistribution of salaries. Mark listened quietly, waiting for the bottom line. “Pastor, since we’re all going to be taking up the slack while you’re…out indefinitely…we propose to reallocate thirty percent of your salary.”
He and Sharla could survive off of thirty percent less from the church. It wouldn’t be pretty, but they could swing things until he was released to resume normal duties. Though he really didn’t like the thought of fulfilling what he believed to be Kit’s agenda—which was to get as close to “rich” as possible through ministry—he had to admit that the proposal was reasonable. The advisory board had always done its best to be fair, if nothing else. “What’s the schedule?”
“Schedule?” Marshall repeated.
“Yeah. Who’s preaching when? I’d love to come and be fed, myself.”
Marshall shuffled through a few papers. “I’ll do this coming week’s sermons—Sunday and Wednesday, since it’s the first week. Kit’ll take second, Jackson third. We’re still thinking through the fourth.”
“I’ll do it!” Jonathan piped up.
Rev. Jackson and Rev. Marshall looked at Jonathan like he was crazy. Actually, they looked at him more like he was trying to steal money from their pockets, which would be in order if he actually stepped into the rotation.
Jonathan took advantage of their silence. “I’ve been to seminary, I’ve studied under some of the best preachers, had my sermons critiqued. And isn’t fourth Sunday youth Sunday? It would make sense for me to preach then.”
The thought of Jonathan preaching in the near future was definitely not on Mark’s radar. Sure, Jonathan had studied and was an excellent resource when it came to researching the context of scriptures. More than once, Mark had been able to add insight to his sermons based on information that Jonathan produced—that is, when Mark
wasn’t downloading them from SermonDepot.com.
But could they trust the flock to a kid?
Mark leaned toward his iPad, which only captured Jonathan’s profile. “I have to say, this is a surprise.”
Rev. Marshall laughed, “Most definitely. Jonathan, you’ve only been here…what? Six months?”
Jonathan pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. “Yes, I understand. But this wouldn’t be my first first sermon. I preached at my cousin’s funeral. I-I spoke at my niece’s kindergarten graduation.”
Rev. Jackson and Marshall busted out laughing. Mark had to cover his mouth.
“Whoo!” Marshall slapped Jonathan on the back. “Aw, man, you got me!”
“Did anybody get saved?” Rev. Jackson joshed.
Thankfully, Mark could see that Jonathan himself recognized the humor in his statement.
“Okay, okay. That wasn’t the best example,” he admitted, “but I came to this church not just because I needed a job. I needed a place where I could grow, where I could learn to run a church. And I know that preaching is part of what makes a church run well. I gotta get my start sooner or later. Everybody does, right?”
Jackson and Marshall calmed down long enough to acknowledge Jonathan’s addendum. That’s when Mark, for the first time, recognized that if Jonathan had the ability to win over two men who stood to lose money because of him, he might have a future in sharing the gospel on a large platform.
“So, Jonathan, do you mind if I ask you something?” Mark probed. “It’s a question I ask every potential minister at New Vision. One I’ve never written down, one that I ask you not to share with anyone else who might be interviewing with me for such a position in the future.”
“Shoot,” Jonathan consented confidently.
Marshall tilted far back in his seat. Jackson folded his hands on the table.
“If you died, were suddenly standing at heaven’s gate, knocking, and God asked you why He should let you into His kingdom, how would you answer?”
Jonathan looked at his two comrades quizzically. They stared back. Stoic. For some reason, Mark felt his chest tightening.
Jonathan laughed nervously. “I mean, that’s…like…a trick question. God would never ask me that.”
“Explain yourself.” Mark prompted.
The camera shifted. Jonathan talked to Mark face-on. “Because that would be like me going to my best friend’s house, knocking on the door and him asking me why he should let me in. That wouldn’t happen because we would have talked earlier that day, we might have talked while I was on the way over—when I got there, he wouldn’t do anything else but open the door wide and welcome me in. That’s how it’ll be with me and God because of Christ. He’ll welcome me like a friend because that’s what we’ve been all along the way.”
In all his years of asking men and women that same question, Mark had never heard or seen a more sincere, passionate answer. And with His unmistakable power.
Jonathan turned the camera back toward its previous arrangement, capturing the astonished expressions of his elders, who sat speechless.
Mark spoke for them all. “You’re in the rotation, Jonathan.”
Chapter 23
If he didn’t get out of the house soon, Mark was going to pull his eyelashes out one by one. The marvel of watching Sharla run the household had worn off. And now that Amani was out of school for the summer, Mark found it hard to watch how his wife and son interacted. She fussed at him perpetually, and he bit back with comments that bordered between hilarious and disrespectful.
Then Mark had to jump in on his wife’s side, but a part of him wished Sharla would just be quiet and stop pestering the boy about every little thing. “Amani, you didn’t make your bed right,” “Amani, sit a little further back from the television,” “Amani, those shoes don’t match your outfit.”
Really, it was enough to make a grown man wild, let alone a teenager trying to express himself. Mark wondered when Sharla had gone from simply being a detail-oriented person to being a control-freak. He appreciated all the hard work she obviously put into managing their household, but was it really that serious?
He couldn’t take much more of it. The visitors from the church had stopped coming by except for Rev. Jackson, who always joked around with Amani every time he dropped by. Though Mark and Jackson might disagree about a lot of things with regard to New Vision, they were friends and brothers in Christ nonetheless. They had both mastered the art of weaving in and out of their roles with ease.
He whispered to Jackson, “My wife’s driving me crazy. I gotta get back to the office. Can I borrow your old pickup truck?”
“Now, Pastor, I would let you, but you know that truck is a stick. You’d need both arms to drive it.”
“Aw, dang.” Mark chewed another nail and tapped his foot.
“Where you wanna go? I’ll be glad to take you somewhere.”
“Anywhere, I don’t care.”
“Let’s roll.”
Mark seized the opportunity. He sprang from the couch. “Sharla, I’m leaving with Rev. Jackson. We’ll be back later.”
She was in the living room before they could make a move. “Where are y’all going?”
“Riding around,” Mark said.
Sharla spoke to Rev. Jackson, “Mark’s on medication, you know? He can’t go long without it or those nerves might start to acting up. And he can’t have a lot of jarring action.”
“Sister, I’ll be extra careful with him.” Rev. Jackson put an arm around Mark’s shoulder and escorted him to his own front door.
“Rev., are you sure?”
“Yes indeed. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, baby.” Mark quickly walked toward his friend’s car and hopped in before Sharla could come up with another reason why he shouldn’t go.
Jackson started the car. The rumble of the engine swept through Mark’s body. “Freedom!” he yelled.
“Aw now, Mark, don’t get so upset with her. You know that’s how women are. They ain’t happy if they ain’t got nobody to worry after.”
“This is exhausting,” Mark confided. “It’s like she’s always trying to make sure everything is perfect, and I don’t know why.”
“Some people just like that.” Jackson backed out of the driveway and headed onto a main street. “Where to?”
“I don’t know. You hungry?”
“Not really,” Jackson said.
“Me, either.” Sharla made sure he ate so his body would have the energy and nutrients to heal itself.
Jackson turned up his Neal Roberson CD. The old-school gospel rhythms, the guitars, the tambourine, and the blues-like composition seemed a perfect soundtrack for the moment. Mark rocked to the song, My Mind is Gone. The heavy beat thumped deep down inside him.
They rode, listening to music for about fifteen minutes. Mark thanked God for Jackson. Sharla couldn’t have ever just ridden in a car without an agenda, without talking—unless she was purposely giving him the silent treatment which, actually, was louder than words.
The highway wasn’t as crowded as he thought it would be. They cruised another five minutes before nearing the exit to the hospital where Mark had been a patient the week before. He was glad to be looking at the rows of windows from far away.
Suddenly, the question plagued him: Was Bria still in the hospital? “Rev., you heard anything else about the lady who was in the wreck with me?”
“No, sir, I haven’t.”
“You think we ought to find out?”
“I reckon it couldn’t hurt. Maybe your lawyer can find out for you,” he obviously tried to nip Mark’s wild idea in the bud.
The attempt didn’t work. “I was thinking…maybe we should go by there. Check on her.”
“Now Mark, I can’t sign up for no kind of foolishness. We already got the reporters coming to church and picking the members for dirt. Last thing we need is you pokin’ around the hospital bed of the woman they think you seein’ on the side.”
&n
bsp; “But I’ve got you with me. We’re going on behalf of New Vision. If the paparazzi are anywhere near, they’ll get their Sunday evening feel-good story—Injured Pastor Visits Fellow Accident Victim,” Mark drew a rosy picture.
“Or Suspect Visits Victim on Death Bed to Finish What He Started,” Rev. Jackson dumped a bucket of black paint on Mark’s scene.
“Look, this isn’t about just me. It’s about ’Mani.” Mark knew he’d struck a chord. Rev. Jackson had a soft spot in his heart for Amani. “I think Bria is some kin to him.”
“Bria?”
“Yes. That’s her name.”
“Sounds like one of them young names,” Jackson estimated. “She his cousin or something?”
“I’m not sure. I need to find out. I think Sharla already knows, but she’s keeping her lips sealed,” he confided.
“Did you ask her what she knows about Bria?”
“No. ’Mani’s been dropping hints lately that he wants to get more information about his birth family, but every time he does, Sharla gets touchy. I think she feels like he’s trying to fill her spot in his life with someone else,” he explained. “I’ve tried to tell her that no matter what, she’ll always be the one who heard his first words, saw him take the first steps. It’s weird, Rev. She’d never help me check on Bria.”
“So I gotta ask,” the elder probed, “if you know what can of beans you might open if you go see this Bria woman, why do you really want to go see her the first minute you get out of the house without your wife?” He gave a sideways glance.
Mark couldn’t believe his ears. “Rev., are you kidding me?”
“I’m just askin’ for the record.”
“You of all people should know me better than that. I’m not a cheater.”
“Don’t get all bent out of shape,” Jackson griped. “You was a man before you was ever a minister. We all got temptations. I needed to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, that’s all.”
A hundred darts pierced Mark’s heart. If Rev. Jackson thought his pastor capable and possibly guilty of sneaking around with Bria, it was no wonder the rest of the world assumed the worst.
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