by Pat Simmons
He needed to vent. As close as he was to Reggie, he doubted his business partner and best friend could be objective when it came to Monica. Reggie liked her from day one. Plus, he didn’t know the demons she was fighting.
By default, his father was the other option. He was a good listener above his other qualities. “How you doin’, Pops?” he asked when he answered. After they exchanged the standard greetings, Tyson was blunt.
“I like this woman, really like her, probably love her, if I’m honest, but she has a condition and I don’t know how that will affect our relationship down the road. Will she get better or worse?” he rambled on until he had to catch his breath.
“A medical condition?”
Tyson sighed in frustration. “Until she sees a doctor, I think it could be mental—I don’t know.” That frustrated him as he paced his living room floor.
Seconds ticked by while he waited for his father to say something. “There are drugs for conditions, son. We can never judge a person by conditions. I have high blood pressure. No one would know it because I take medicine and it’s controlled. If her mental issues can be controlled with meds, then it’s up to you to accept that or move on.”
Drugs or no drugs, Tyson didn’t want to accept it. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he probably wouldn’t believe it. “I was hoping for more of a ‘stay or run to the hills’ answer.”
His father chuckled. “When people are stressed, things happen to their bodies and minds. My advice is if you care about this woman, help her get the help she needs. If it works out, you’ll be glad you did. If it doesn’t, at least you can say you tried.”
“You’re right. Thanks, Pops.” Tyson disconnected and closed his eyes. He took a few minutes to digest the options his father outlined.
When he left his place, Tyson detoured to the closest Cecil Whitaker, a St. Louis chain known for its pizzeria, and he ordered three sub sandwiches, in case her friend had an appetite.
Less than an hour later, he knocked on Monica’s door. She greeted him with the sweetest smile. There was no way he could desert her. He meant what he said earlier about working through her problem together. “Hey, whatever you have smells good,” he said, crossing the doorway and handing over the bag.
“Thank you for my flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“You’re welcome.” Once he removed his coat, he opened his arms. “Come here. I think we both need a hug.” As he rested his chin on the top of her head, Tyson closed his eyes and reflected on the previous night’s crisis. What a difference a day makes.
She seemed content to let him hold her. When she pulled away, the seduction in her eyes made him swallow. Then he realized she wasn’t purposely flirting.
“Come on, the soup’s ready.” She led him to the kitchen and placed the bag on the table and began to take out the sandwiches. “You’re eating two of these monsters?” She chuckled.
“No, one is for your friend.”
“Aww, how thoughtful. When it comes to food and Veronica, you’ve gained a friend for life.”
“Do you need help?” He was ready to pitch in.
“Nope. Wash your hands and have a seat.” She scooped soup into one bowl and handed it to him along with a bottled water. “Unless you want soda or juice.”
“I’m good,” he said, waiting for her to join him. When she did, he reached across the table. Instead of gathering her hands in his, he looped his fingers through hers. “God, thank You for this food and this beautiful creature coming into my life. Lord, help her help us to get through this. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”
When he opened his eyes, Monica’s lids fluttered until they revealed her eyes glazed over. “Thank you,” she choked out.
“Always.”
“That was a nice prayer.”
But was it enough to release you from this crazy nightmare? he debated.
Keep praying, God answered.
And Tyson planned to. He tasted her chicken soup and smacked his lips. “Hmp, hmp, hmp.” He shook his head. “What can’t you cook?”
“Nothing, as long as I have a recipe.” She bit into the sandwich and nodded. “This is good.” She wiped her mouth. “About last night…”
“Yeah, about last night.” He was waiting for her to bring it up as he took her hand. “You didn’t trust me, not enough to tell me something was wrong.” When she opened her mouth, he shook his head. “No, Monica, I need to say this. I care about you, which makes me worry. Please don’t ever lie to me again.”
“I won’t,” she whispered.
“Last Sunday when I attended church, it was for you. It was my way of standing in the gap. Silly, huh?” He chuckled. “After hearing a sermon about healing, I’m convinced God can do the same for you, but you’ve got to come to Solae’s church and hear what I heard for you to understand. I can’t go on seeing you tormented like this, so will you come with me?”
“No.”
He blinked at her lack of hesitation in answering.
Her lips curled into a smile. “I had planned to go myself, so will you come with me?”
Tyson exhaled. She had him going for a second. “You didn’t have to ask.” He guided her face to his and sealed it with a kiss.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Veronica screamed and slammed her door in front of Monica and Tyson’s faces, but not before grabbing the container of soup and sandwich.
From inside, she shouted, “Monica, I’ll kill you when I regain strength! Thanks for the soup.” There was a pause before she continued. This time, her tone was nicer. “Hi Tyson, thanks for taking care of my girl. I’ll meet you when I’m at my best.”
He had seemed amused at her antics, and replied, “I look forward to it.”
Later that night over the phone after Veronica gave her a tongue-lashing, she gave her a stern warning to hold on to that man. Monica didn’t argue, but it seemed more like Tyson was holding on to her. He was the type to introduce to her parents, and with that thought, she drifted off to sleep.
Sunday morning, Monica was in good spirits about attending church with Tyson. She donned a black turtleneck, a long black skirt, and accented it with a colorful scarf before fitting her curls under a black fedora. It was too cold to look cute, but she tried.
When Tyson arrived, the first thing she spotted was a medium-sized Bible. “For you.” He leaned closer. “And this.” He brushed a kiss against her lips. “I didn’t know if you had a Bible or preferred to read on your tablet or phone, but…”
She placed a finger to his lips, which he kissed. “I’ll cherish the words in it and the man who gave it to me.” When Monica lifted her coat off the hook, not only did Tyson help her with it, but he spun her around and buttoned it.
She laughed. “You know I’m capable of doing that.”
“Yep, and I’m very capable of taking care of you too.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her out the door. Once she locked it, he tightened his grip to keep her from slipping on some icy patches.
This was day three of spending time together outside of the office, and she enjoyed every minute of it. Monica didn’t look forward to returning to work in the morning where their relationship would be restricted to business only.
“Hey, you’re too quiet over there.” He patted her hand while they waited at a stoplight.
“Just thinking.”
“I’ll listen whenever you’re ready to share.”
Smiling, Monica cleared her head. “Nothing deep.” So she chatted about nothing serious until he turned into Rapture Ready Church’s parking lot.
“Did you tell Solae we were coming?” Tyson asked.
“Nope.”
“Then she’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
In the foyer, a male usher seemed to recognize Tyson and nodded. Taking her hand, he followed the direction of the usher to a pew where Solae was sitting with her children. Hershel was absent, probably on duty at the firehouse.
Glancing over her shoulder, Solae did a double take before grinn
ing wildly, then she scooted down to make room for them. “Yay.” Solae squeezed her lips as if to keep her excitement from escaping. “It’s about time he told you how he felt.”
“You knew?” Monica wiggled in her seat so he would have plenty of room on the pew.
“Yep.” Her coworker stood and began to clap along with others to the beat of the song.
Monica and Tyson got on their feet too and sang along with the words flashing on a large screen. Solae lightly bumped her, but kept singing. Closing her eyes, she allowed the chorus to penetrate her spirit. She was disappointed when the singers yielded the floor to the man who identified himself as Pastor Reed.
“I welcome all first-time and returning visitors today,” the preacher said.
Tyson squeezed her hand and guided her to her feet when the pastor asked guests to stand to be acknowledged. Solae and her tribe must have clapped and yelled the loudest.
She was surprised Pastor Reed didn’t waste any time with his sermon.
“There is a war going on today, right now, and for some of you, right here in this place of worship, and God has equipped His saints with armor that we’re not using. My text is from 2 Timothy 1:7. Verse seven says, ‘For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.’”
Sound mind? Her heart skipped. The other night she thought she was losing her mind. She was so afraid.
“The Bible says, ‘For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.’ For those of you who are taking notes, you can find it in Ephesians 6:12, a warning scripture. We’re reminded to fight a battle others might not see. Once we receive the Holy Ghost, God gives us a spirit of faith and it’s faith that battles with and defeats fear.”
Monica felt as if she was being overpowered again, right there in church, but unlike before, instead of gaining strength, something held it at bay.
“Fear is of the devil and its target is your mind and your mind controls your thoughts, which influences your actions that can trigger suicide attempts, depression, worry, hallucinations, voices, and other devices of spiritual warfare. The sins of this world have invaded our hearts and minds. Suit up!” he shouted and his words echoed through the sanctuary like a ripple effect.
Again her heart responded as if she was with child and the baby was kicking her. She looked at Solae who seemed to be in her own zone with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth. Clearly, she was meditating. To her right, Tyson was watching her. She smiled and refocused on the sermon. “You all know the armor of God can’t be penetrated. Suit up with your shield of faith outlined in Ephesians 6…”
Monica analyzed the message as if she was adding numbers for demographics. She needed this spirit, which would give her power and most of all, the sound mind.
Every time Pastor Reed shouted, “suit up,” there was a roar in the sanctuary, reminding her of being on the winning team at a football game.
The experience was energetic and powerful, but she felt Pastor Reed left her on a cliff when he closed his Bible and asked all to stand. Twisting her lips in a pout, she wanted more.
“The time has come for you to make a decision about whose side you’re on. When fear comes knocking at your door, summon your faith to answer it. If you want the spirit of God in your life today, first repent of your sins and then come to the altar where the ministers will pray for you. Go all the way with God and let the Blood of Jesus wash away your sins. God will fill your clean empty vessel with His Spirit, so there will be no room for the devil to inhabit. He’ll speak to you in heavenly tongues.” He stretched out his arm. “Will you come today?”
Monica didn’t need to be asked again and she turned to nudge Tyson out of the way. As she walked to the altar, she sensed his presence beside her. He waved a minister over, bypassing other ministers who were closer to them.
“This is my Monica. I asked you to pray for her,” Tyson said.
My Monica? She was humbled by his possessiveness. The minister nodded. “Hi, Monica, and I’m glad to see you back, brother. What do you want from the Lord today?”
“The works. I want to be saved, I want the Holy Ghost and the armor…” She ran out of breath with her list for God until tears ran down her cheeks.
“Have you repented?” the minister asked and she nodded. She’d repented of everything, or at least everything that she could remember, even white lies. “Do you consent to be baptized for the remission of those sins?”
She nodded again, then the man eyed Tyson.
“You brought your friend today, but what about you? God is waiting on you to come to Him for yourself.”
When Tyson acted as if he wasn’t budging, she reached touched his arm. “Hey, if you believed God enough for me, believe Him for you.”
“Right.” Bowing his head, she followed Tyson’s lead and allowed the minister to lay hands on them and pray.
Next, they were separated into dressing rooms. An older women instructed her to change clothes to be baptized. “You look awfully nice, sugar. I guess we’ll say you wearing black today is to bury your sinful nature. Once you come out of the water, you’ll be white as these clothes.” She handed Monica clothing and stepped out to give her privacy to completely undress.
Suited in the white garments, swimming caps, plus white socks, she was ready to receive this promise of the Holy Ghost. When she didn’t see Tyson at the pool deck, she hoped he hadn’t backed out, but with or without him, she was going all the way with God.
She cautiously stepped into the water, never having learned how to swim. Another minister gripped her hand and helped her down the couple of stairs, then she was told to fold their arms across their chests.
Her heart pounded with excitement about the unknown. She closed her eyes and wondered if church had been dismissed, because the once-noisy sanctuary was quiet.
“My dear sister, upon the confession of your faith, and the confidence we have in the blessed Word of God, concerning His Death, Burial, and Resurrection, we now indeed baptize in the name of Jesus, for there is no other name under Heaven that can save you for the remission of your sins, and Acts 2:38 says you shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
She was submerged under the water for seconds, but when she resurfaced, she felt lighter, as if physical baggage had been left behind. The silence in the sanctuary was replaced with roars of jubilation. Evidently, the baptisms were the main attractions. She lifted her hands in praise as tears rolled down.
“Come on, baby,” the same woman said, draping a warm towel over her shoulders and guided her back into the changing room. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. Don’t worry about putting back on your black. That’s only the outer garment; your soul is whiter than snow.”
Again, she gave her privacy to dry off and change.
“Now, let’s get you in the prayer room and let the Lord fill you with Tongues of Fire like He did in the Book of Acts. That Holy Ghost is something powerful!”
Monica grinned. “I’m ready to get everything God has for me.” Once she got that Holy Ghost, she could fight fire with fire.
#
Only I can save her, God whispered to Tyson as he changed for the baptism. That wasn’t the only scolding the Lord gave him before he stepped foot in the pool. Any man who comes to Me must come in spirit and in truth. Come to Me for yourself only.
Tyson had trembled with overwhelming fear that God knew his every thought, which included his nonchalant attitude toward church commitment. He had been too rebellious as a child to want to be baptized, because he was never sorry for his mischievous deeds. Seeing how much Monica needed God caused Tyson to realize he needed Jesus just as much. It was at that moment he truly repented of his sins.
Now as he sat in the small chapel area, waiting for the Lord to give him this Tongue of Fire, he pushed Monica to the back of his mind and prayed for God to take co
ntrol of his life.
Others had joined him in the room, but he refused to be distracted. Some mumbled, others were more vocal as they prayed, but Tyson drowned them out with his own petitions, until suddenly, there was a sound like a tornado heading their way. An explosion seemed to shake the room, punching him in the gut.
He heard others speak in a language that didn’t sound as if it was from this planet. Seconds later, his jaw moved on its own volition and utterings spilled out of his mouth. Tyson knew it in his soul. He had received the Holy Ghost. When God gave him a space to say something, he shouted, “Hallelujah.”
Tyson never imagined he would shut the church down, but apparently, a couple of deacons were waiting for the last candidates to receive the Holy Ghost before locking up the church until night service.
There hadn’t been one person in the prayer room who hadn’t spoken in other tongues. Even now, half hour later, on the parking lot, many of them were still rejoicing as he helped Monica into his SUV. “That was amazing!” she said, buckling her seat belt. “That has to be one of God’s best kept secrets.”
He agreed, starting the engine. “I guess it is if we don’t read our Bibles.”
As he drove anyway to take Monica to brunch, she began to cry and speak in tongues as she worshiped Jesus. Fifteen minutes later, when he parked outside First Watch café, they praised God together.
This by far, had been the best day in his thirty-six years. His salvation had been a game changer.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Aren’t you glowing?” Mrs. Coates stated the obvious, grinning from ear to ear as Monica glided into the lobby on Monday morning.
Yes, I am. She had the man—Tyson—and now she had the man who died for her—God. She twirled around. “I’m happy.”
“Yep, love does that to you.” She sighed.
She paused and considered Mrs. Coates’ assessment. “You’re right. I’m in love with Jesus!”
