Stepping Down

by Michelle Stimpson

  Theoretically, Mark understood the pastor’s roundabout way of telling him not to put himself in God’s place. Yet, there was still the issue of his calling to preach and minister to people, to bring them into the fold. “But Pastor, people’s souls are hanging in the balance. If I don’t get up there and find some kind of way to…keep them engaged and active in the church, they might end up in hell, and I don’t want that on my record.”

  Pastor Phillips reached over to the bookshelf wall and grasped a large Bible from the lower shelf. He threw it toward Mark. “John chapter 10, verses fourteen through sixteen. Read it out loud.”

  Mark observed the version on the spine – The Amplified Version. He flipped to the scriptures. “I am the Good Shepherd; and I know and recognize My own, and My own know and recognize Me—even as [truly as] the Father knows Me and I also know the Father—and I am giving My [very own] life and laying it down on behalf of the sheep. And I have other sheep [beside these] that are not of this fold. I must bring and impel those also; and they will listen to My voice and heed My call, and so there will be [they will become] one flock under one Shepherd.”

  “Who’s the Shepherd?” Pastor quizzed him.

  “Jesus.”

  “Who gives the sheep the desire to come in?”

  “Jesus.”

  “You doin’ pretty good so far.” The old man smiled.

  Mark was beside himself with joy. Though Mark had, no doubt, read the passage before, it took on new meaning that day in his heart.

  “Now skip down to verse twenty-six and read to about thirty.”

  Mark obeyed, reading again, “But you do not believe and trust and rely on Me because you do not belong to My fold [you are no sheep of Mine]. The sheep that are My own hear and are listening to My voice; and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never lose it or perish throughout the ages. [To all eternity they shall never by any means be destroyed.] And no one is able to snatch them out of My hand. My Father, Who has given them to Me, is greater and mightier than all [else]; and no one is able to snatch [them] out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are One.”

  “What does that tell you?” Pastor Phillips reviewed.

  “It means that those who belong to Christ will always belong to Him,” Mark managed to speak.

  “Son, your job—every believer’s job—is to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit within. You should read books, listen to counsel, and heed advice from your mentors, but at the end of the day, you got to know it’s a reason God chose you to be the pastor at the church where he’s allowing you to serve. You do what He says do, you preach what He says preach. Period. If every person in your church gets up and walks out, so be it. He’ll bring in some more who are thirsty for what thus sayeth the Lord. But you got to answer to God for what you believe He told you to do!”

  With lowered eyes, nodding slightly, Mark replied, “Yes, sir.” He couldn’t help but think that if he’d obeyed God’s directions in the first place, the predicament waiting for him in Houston might not even be there.

  “Of course, you can’t rightly hear what He’s telling you to do if you ain’t talkin’ to Him. You got to get in His face, hole yourself up with the word, section off time with Him—don’t let nobody intrude on it,” he continued passionately, his jowls shaking with conviction. “I guarantee you, you spend time with God, you teach the church to look to the head, Jesus, in everything, and He will draw men unto Him. Not you, Him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, Mark, I’m gon’ pray over you,” Pastor Phillips said as he stood and circled around to stand behind Mark. He put his hands on Mark’s shoulders. Mark kept his head bowed. “Father, we thank You for the calling to preach, to share Your word with a dying world. God, I thank You for filling this young man with Your holy boldness and for bringing us together today. I ask a blessing on him and the ministry You have given to him and his wife. Let him rest in Your strength and Your power. Let him turn the reins over to You. Cover him with humility as he steps down from trying to assume Your position so that Your power can rest all the more upon Him for Your glory. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

  And with that prayer, the weight of the church lifted off Mark’s shoulders, over to Christ’s, where he now realized it had always rightfully belonged.

  Chapter 28

  While Mark, Amani, and the rest of his cousins went bowling, Sharla hung behind with Mama B and Debra Kay to rest. They’d finished decorating the church—which included blowing up fifty balloons with their very own lips, a feat that nearly wiped Sharla out.

  Now that the house was silent and empty, except for the cutest little 3-year-old girl who was far too sleepy to go bowling, the women had a chance to sit down in the kitchen and chat.

  In addition to tomorrow’s engagement dinner, Debra Kay and Mama B still had quite a list of tasks to accomplish before the actual wedding in three weeks.

  “I can’t do but one thing at a time, Debra Kay,” her mother fussed as she wiped the countertops clean again.

  “Momma, come sit down.”

  Mama B closed her eyes and sighed. “Okay, okay.”

  Sharla pulled a chair for the tired woman to utilize.

  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “You gotta take it easy some time, that’s what I’m always trying to tell Mark.”

  “Well, you know how men are. They feel like it’s their job to fix the world,” Mama B advised.

  Sharla chuckled softly. “So it’s not just my husband?”

  “Please,” Debra Kay said. “It’s in their blood. Especially a decent man. Tugga’s always been the kind to try to help people, unless he’s not on your team. You ever played Monopoly with him?”

  Sharla squinted her eyes, trying to remember. “I don’t think so.”

  Mama B gave a high-pitched hoot. “Don’t ever play with him and Son. Chile, them two was about to tear my house down playing Monopoly. Mark didn’t back down ‘cause Son was older. Them two so competitive, I had to stop the game ‘til they could get all that testosterone under control.”

  “And you remember, Momma, they found the game and set it up again after you and Daddy went to sleep? And they got busted for arguing so loud!”

  Sharla had no trouble believing that story. Mark and Amani talked so much trash when they played video games together, she wondered if it was actually productive father-and-son time. “I just want Mark to slow down, stop being so wound up and busy with work.”

  “Shoot, I wish mine would keep a job!” Debra Kay exploded. “Don’t get me started on the other end of the spectrum.”

  “You right, don’t get started, hear?” Mama B warned her.

  Debra Kay stood, rolling her eyes. “I’mma go check on the baby. Y’all call me back in once y’all start talking about something other than husbands because I have nothing nice to say right now.”

  “You doin’ the right thing, ‘cause you know I’m not gon’ sit up and listen to no woman bad-mouth her husband in front of me,” her mother agreed. Then she turned her attention back to Sharla.

  “Sounds like you and me in the same boat,” Mama B surmised. “I’m marryin’ a doctor. He got his office hours and such, but he cares about his patients. If one of ‘em takes a turn for the worse in the middle of the night, I know good and well he’s gonna run up to the hospital.”

  Sharla hung her neck out. “So…are you gonna be okay with that?”

  “Yes, I think so. Long as he don’t turn on a whole bunch of lights and wake me up,” she giggled.

  Sharla couldn’t imagine any woman being okay with her husband being gone from home so much, even if it was for something urgent. “What about you? I mean, his job is going to take him away from you. Doesn’t that…upset you at least a little?”

  Mama B bit her bottom lip. “I can’t say it won’t concern me a teensy bit, but you got to remember I been widowed for eight years. I’m perfectly content bein’ by myself. I wouldn’t be marryin�
� Frank if I didn’t believe he would add joy to my life. I sure ain’t signin’ up for no extra headaches and drama in this last quarter of my life.”

  “You know? I might actually be okay with Mark being gone so much if I knew that he was being called away to life-or-death situations,” Sharla guessed.

  “I think what Tugga does is more important than being a doctor. I mean, eventually, all of Frank’s patients die—we all gon’ die. But a preacher’s work never dies, goes on into eternity. Can’t be nothin’ more important than that,” she explained.

  Sharla looked down at her hands. “I never thought of it like that.”

  Mama B lifted Sharla’s chin with a finger. “Sweetheart, what’s on your mind?”

  Tears brimmed Sharla’s eyes as she poured out the truth. “Mark could have died in the accident, and I would have been a single mom left to raise a boy all by myself. All for the church. And this same church has turned against him right now. Why can’t he see that he doesn’t mean as much to them as they do to him? Why would he put them before us?”

  She collapsed into Mama B’s arms, crying like a baby.

  The woman’s chest vibrated as she asked, “Honey, the church isn’t the enemy. The enemy is the enemy. Are you standing beside your husband in the battle?”

  Sharla rose up, wiping her nose. “No. I mean, at first I thought I was, but it’s like the expectations kept getting higher and higher because I was a first lady. I couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t tell anyone how I felt because I didn’t want it to make Mark look bad. And now, I can’t even ask anyone else to mentor Amani because that would make Mark look like he’s not being a good father. It’s like, I’m always on stage in this play. I don’t want to be a first lady, I’m not…all deep and…I’m just not there yet.”

  “Where is there?” Mama B asked.

  “There is…” Sharla paused, then pointed, “like you. You probably pray every day, read your Bible all the time. And you don’t let people gossip around you. Like just now, I wanted to hear what Debra Kay had to say about her husband. Even though I know it’s wrong to talk about people, I like it. Like, I love juicy gossip and people arguing and drama on reality television shows. It makes me feel good. But Mark says it’s a sign that I’m a baby in Christ. If I have to stop watching my TV shows, I don’t think I’ll ever be a mature Christian.”

  Mama B patted Sharla’s hand and groaned, “Mmm, bless your heart.”

  “Anyway, that’s just one example of there, which is where I’m not.”

  “Honey, you got a whole bunch of stuff poppin’ off inside of you. You worryin’ about Tugga slowin’ down when you the one need to cast all your cares on the Lord before you have yourself a nervous breakdown.”

  Sharla had heard that one before. From Mark himself. “I know. I do need to stop worrying so much.”

  “You need to stop worryin’ at all. Stop worryin’ ‘bout what folks think about you as the first lady, stop worryin’ ‘bout if you there yet in Jesus, and stop worryin’ ‘bout Amani and Mark. Turn both of ‘em over to the Lord.”

  “But what am I supposed to—”

  “Mmm-mmm,” Mama B stopped her sharply. “I know you ain’t asked for my advice, so I’m just gon’ tell you one thing. Mark is a full-grown man. You can’t make no full-grown man do nothin’, even if what you tellin’ him is right. The best thing you got in your corner is the Holy Ghost. He can tell your husband stuff in five minutes you been tryin’ to tell him for five years.

  “Chile, I don’t sit up prayin’ and studyin’ the word every day ‘cause I don’t have other stuff to do up through the day. I pray and study the word ‘cause after walkin’ with Him fifty years, I know everything work out better His way.”

  Sharla swiped her eyes. “But what about the TV shows?”

  Mama B waved her hand. “Don’t you worry ‘bout that. God said He’d write His words on your heart. He got a plan for everybody. Might be He gon’ work on something else in you first, heal up a hurt or restore your joy. You seek His face. When and if y’all get to the point where He get ready for you to stop watching those shows, He’ll take the taste for ‘em right out your mouth. Let Him do it however He want to, and don’t get confused ‘cause I guarantee you, ain’t nobody there until we get out this physical body, according to the word. All you got to do is give Him a blank check with your life.

  “But how? It’s not that easy,” Sharla whined. “All my life, people have said, ‘Turn it over to Jesus, stop worryin’’ but that doesn’t work.”

  “Have you ever actually tried it?”

  Sharla thought about the question. The last time she tried to leave her most precious possession in God’s hands, He hadn’t come through for her. She’d lost the baby. And then, when she tried to adopt Amani, God almost let Bria’s mother get custody. She answered honestly, “Yes, I did trust God about something. But He didn’t do anything, so I had to handle it myself.”

  “And what did that get you?”

  She answered matter-of-factly, “It got me what I wanted.”

  “And doing it your own way didn’t cost you anything?”

  Without warning, the pieces of this situation came together in Sharla’s mind like a puzzle. What she’d done all those years ago, when she took matters into her own hands to ensure that she got to keep Amani, was at the root of all their current troubles. Her preoccupation with making sure that Amani lived up to the risk she took, her insecurities as a mother, even the whole situation with Bria could be traced back to the underhanded way she’d resolved her own problem.

  “You’re right. It has cost me something.”

  Mama B nodded. “Don’t get caught up on it, though, Sharla. We all done wrong. We keep God plenty busy fixin’ our mistakes. Even now, you can ask Him to come in and make it right.”

  Sharla threw her arms around Mama B’s neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Chile, thank God.”

  Chapter 29

  Mark had to readjust his brain for a moment because it was odd seeing Mama B sitting next to Frank, but they made a handsome couple seated at the head table. The room bustled with chatter, laughter, and fellowship as members of both sides of the family and respective church members filled the hall.

  Sharla’s signature decorating skills could be seen in the purple and green centerpieces and tiebacks on the chairs. “Baby, you did a wonderful job.” He pecked her lips.

  “Thank you.”

  Had Amani been sitting next to them, he probably would have gagged. However, Amani had found a place with three other teenage cousins and never looked back once he got to Peasner.

  Pastor Phillips stood and opened the party with prayer, followed by a speech, thanking Mama B for her service to Mount Zion since its inception. There was hardly a dry eye left in the building. When his voice began to crack, even Mark got a little misty. Those people loved Mama B. Not because she was on the roll or because she’d donated the land for the church or even because she served so faithfully. They loved her, period.

  Next, Frank stood. “I have to admit, I feel kind of bad stealing Mama B away from Mount Zion.”

  A good-humored rumble filled the room. “But we’ll be back. Pastor Phillips is a gem. Over these past months, he’s almost become a second father to me. As you all know, I’m a father. I know what it’s like to marry your daughter off, so I wouldn’t dream of not visiting Mount Zion often.”

  Pastor Phillips led the applause.

  “B and I have decided that, before we eat, we would like to share the sacraments with those closest to us. More than anything, our union is centered around Christ. It’s because of His sacrifice that we have a picture of perfect love. We do this in remembrance of Him.”

  Pastor Phillips called for all clergy in the house to come forward and officiate communion. Members of Mount Zion, presumably ushers, distributed miniature juice cups and broken cracker pieces. Then, Pastor Phillips read from Luke 22, reminding everyone of communion’s significance.

/>   Mark looked out in the audience. There couldn’t have been more than sixty people there. So much smaller than what he was used to at New Vision. Yet somehow, the solemnity of the moment seemed magnified.

  His eyes met with Sharla’s. What? He focused harder to confirm his suspicion. Yes, she is crying. Alarm bells went off inside him. Why is she crying? What have I done wrong now?

  Though he was in no hurry to be belittled, he couldn’t be comfortable with Sharla crying. As soon as communion concluded, two ladies approached the podium to sing a song, freeing the clergymen of their duties.

  Mark rushed back to his seat. “What’s wrong?”

  She dabbed at her eyes. “That was beautiful.”

  Relief swept through him. “Yes, it was.”

  Whatever diet Mark might have thought about following would have to wait until he got out of Peasner, TX, because the food could not be refused. Even the simple salad, obviously made with garden-fresh lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, tasted amazing.

  “Baby, you got to get some of these recipes,” he told Sharla.

  “I’ll try,” she said, keeping her eyes on the plate, “But some of this stuff just won’t taste the same. You’ve got to make it with country water, country eggs, and country vegetables from country soil. All I know is, we’ve got to come back here again.”

  “Mamasita, you ain’t said nothin’ but a word.”

  Between dinner and dessert, Pastor Phillips allowed well-wishers to come up and give their two-minute congratulatory remarks to Frank and Mama B. People told funny stories, gave sage advice, and stuck to the time limit, for the most part.