Zenovia covered her mouth to smother her chuckle as the waitress smiled sweetly at Justin. He had that effect on most women, and he wasn’t the least bit modest about it.
“What is so funny?” Justin asked after the waitress walked away.
“You. You’re funny. You had that girl all twisted.”
Justin smiled, “That wasn’t on purpose.”
“I know. That’s why it’s so funny.”
“All right. Just keep laughing then. I can’t wait to tell Alyssa about this.”
“You all talk?”
“Mmm-hmm. I talked to her yesterday evening; told her I was going out with you.”
“What? Why’d you do that?”
“I thought she’d be happy to hear it.”
“Was she?”
“Yes.”
Zenovia tried to imagine Alyssa being happy about anything that was going on in her life. She couldn’t. After her chastening, Alyssa hadn’t said two words to Zenovia. So to think she’d care abut Zenovia’s life post-Brethren was unimaginable.
“Have you talked to Tristan?”
Justin looked at the floor. “No. He won’t talk to me. Not while he’s still at the headquarters. Maybe after he leaves.”
Zenovia completely understood the pain-filled expression on Justin’s face. She wondered what Justin could’ve learned about the Brethren that made him have doubts.
She asked, “Justin, how do you feel about church now? I’m asking because I almost don’t want to be a part of it. I believe in God, but I just want to believe in Him and not have to answer to people, do you know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Justin replied with an emphatic nod. “It’s why I haven’t joined any churches since I left the Brethren. I’ve visited them, but I just can’t join.”
“The Sunday you saw me at Reaching the Masses is the first time I’ve walked into a church since I left for college.”
“What a coincidence.”
Zenovia smiled in response, although she didn’t agree with Justin. She didn’t think it was a coincidence that she ran into Justin at church. Something told her that God was up to something, but she had no idea what it could be.
And she didn’t need a vision to tell her that.
Chapter Thirty-one
Zenovia glanced around Bishop Wilcox’s office while he finished a telephone call. Almost every wall was lined with books and Bibles, but one of the walls was covered with pictures. Zenovia guessed that the woman in the big hats was Bishop’s wife and the little boy was their son.
When Bishop ended his phone call, Zenovia asked, “Is that First Lady Wilcox?”
“Yes,” Bishop said as he turned to look at the wall. “She was a beautiful woman, wasn’t she?”
Zenovia bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Bishop. I didn’t know….”
“No need to apologize. She and our son passed on six years ago. They died in a car accident.”
“Well, I’m sorry for your loss then,” Zenovia said solemnly.
“Thank you. Would you like something to drink? The nurses usually keep my mini-refrigerator stocked.”
“No, thank you.”
What Zenovia really wanted was to hurry and get finished with the meeting. She’d only agreed to it after Corrine had twisted her arm and made a boatload of promises. She knew it had something to do with what happened on Friends and Family Sunday with Penny, but other than that, she had no idea why Bishop Wilcox had requested the meeting.
“Zenovia, I know you want to know why I wanted to meet with you, especially since you’re not one of our members.”
Zenovia nodded. “Yes, Bishop. I definitely am curious.”
“First, let me ask you a question. Have you ever heard of anyone having a prophetic gifting?”
Zenovia scrunched her nose. “You mean like a psychic? I’ve seen them on television and I think they’re mostly fake.”
“I’m not referring to psychics, Zenovia. If any of them have powers, they are not ordained by God. The Bible speaks against such things and calls it witchcraft.”
Zenovia sighed. Bishop’s statement was one of the reasons that she and Audrey had never shared their abilities with anyone. It was the one lesson that Audrey had taught Zenovia daily, and even though Audrey was mentally unstable, on the subject of the visions, Zenovia took her advice.
“Well then, what do you mean by prophetic gifting? Do you mean like the prophets in the Bible?”
Bishop Wilcox nodded. “Yes. I mean people chosen by God and anointed with His Holy Spirit to edify the body of Christ with the gift of prophecy.”
“Like God’s mouthpiece?”
Bishop Wilcox’s face lit up. “Exactly! A mouthpiece.”
Zenovia felt like she was watching a movie of her life, some fictional representation of what could not possibly be happening. The visions were one thing. Zenovia knew that they were real. But hearing the voice of God and being His mouthpiece was something entirely different, and entirely unbelievable. She planned to cure the voices next week with a low dose of an antipsychotic drug.
“Bishop, excuse me for being skeptical about this. But I’m not sure if God has ever spoken to me, much less anointed me with His Holy Spirit. I’m not worthy of anything like that, I’m afraid. You’re going to have to find another prophet for your church.”
“None of us are worthy of the free gifts we receive from God. Not even salvation. Why do you believe you’re less worthy than anyone else?”
Zenovia’s mind raced back to all of the sins she’d committed as one of the Brethren. She believed that God had forgiven her, but she never wanted to be in a position to be judged by church members, or bishops, or anyone else. Besides, forgiveness did not exactly equal making a person your personal mouthpiece.
“I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, Bishop. I don’t think I’m the one you’re looking for.”
Bishop Wilcox gave Zenovia a fatherly smile. “I’m not looking for you, God is. He’s waiting to wrap you up in His loving arms.”
Zenovia looked away from Bishop Wilcox’s gaze. She could tell that he was sincere, and if she hadn’t been so jaded by the Brethren, she might have enjoyed having Bishop Wilcox as a pastor.
“Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Why don’t we just talk about what happened on Sunday,” Bishop Wilcox suggested.
“I told Sister Penny that God had forgiven her for her sins.”
“How did you know about Sister Penny’s sins?”
Zenovia paused before responding. “I could tell she was distraught. Most of the time people cry in church because they feel guilty about something they’ve done.”
“There were lots of people in tears on Sunday,” Bishop countered. “What made you get up out of your seat to go to Sister Penny?”
“She looked at me, and I just felt compelled to go to her.”
Bishop Wilcox took his glasses off and rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. “You know, Zenovia, nothing you tell me will leave this room.”
“I know. Corrine told me that I could trust you.”
“Then why don’t you trust me? It’s time for you to let God carry your yoke.”
Zenovia tried to think of some excuse to give to Bishop when she heard that voice again in her head.
Tell him.
Zenovia felt her heart start to race. Not the voice. Not again. She’d been hoping that it was a one-time foray into madness, but the voice was back, clear as day and once again giving her instructions.
Lay down your burden. Tell him.
It was a burden. Her secret was weighing her down right along with the guilt she carried around from the Brethren. But she couldn’t tell this man she barely even knew. Bishop or not, he was still a man with a mouth and a church full of parishioners who would, no doubt, ridicule Zenovia if she ever came back to the church.
“So don’t tell me about what happened on Sunday. I understand your reservation. Would you like to talk about your old church? Why
did you leave there?”
Zenovia didn’t appreciate feeling interrogated, but she knew that Corrine was behind it. “I committed some very grave sins against God; I was punished by the church leaders and that sums it up.”
“You were punished by the church leaders? How so?”
Zenovia willingly shared the details of her chastening. It was easy to do so, because deep down she believed that she deserved the punishment, even if she’d had a hard time enduring it.
“And who then chastened that so-called Council of Elders for their sins?” Bishop Wilcox asked after listening to the story.
“I don’t know what you mean. I was the fornicator.”
“Perhaps so, but the Bible says that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. So I ask, who chastened these men?”
Zenovia shrugged. “I don’t know, Bishop. They were the ones in power, and I don’t really know who they answered to.”
Bishop Wilcox shook his head sadly. Then he opened his Bible and flipped through the pages. “Here Zenovia. Read out loud, John Eight, Verses One to Eleven.”
Zenovia took the Bible from Bishop Wilcox and began to read.
Jesus went unto the mount of Olives. And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst, They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou? This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not. So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground. And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.
The passage left Zenovia speechless. What Jesus said to that woman was what she’d needed to hear from the Council of Elders. She hadn’t even planned to continue in her sin. She’d just wanted to feel something other than condemnation.
“Zenovia, I asked you to read that passage so that you can understand that those men had no right to punish you. Their job as shepherds was to guide and protect you and to help you to see the error of your ways.”
“But sometimes people don’t want to stop their sinning. Then what?”
“Another job of the shepherd is to protect the sheep from wolves. But not everyone who sins is a wolf. Were you a wolf? Were you a danger to your congregation?”
Zenovia took pause, and tried to justify the punishment in her own mind. She knew that she’d never be at peace unless she debated both sides of the argument.
But she could come up with no rationalization at all. She had sinned against God and had finally been ready to receive guidance and to turn away from her sins. But she was not a wolf. She was not a threat to anyone. Not Tristan or any of the other Brethren.
“I was not a wolf,” Zenovia said.
“No, you weren’t. And God has forgiven you for your sins. This I know for certain.”
Zenovia narrowed her eyes skeptically. “How do you know that?”
“I know because the Bible says that God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins when we ask for His forgiveness. But I also know because He’s still using you and blessing you with a tremendous gift.”
Zenovia was overwhelmed by Bishop Wilcox’s compassion. Somehow, he had acknowledged her sins without making her feel like a harlot. He’d reassured her of God’s love without saddling her with more guilt than she’d already been carrying.
“Bishop Wilcox… I want to tell you exactly what happened on Sunday. And I hope you can explain it all to me, because I really need some answers.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Zenovia beamed with joy as she looked at her final in Systems Analysis. It was the last test that she had to take to fulfill her graduation requirements to earn her Bachelor of Science in Computer Science. She got an A on her final, which meant that she would indeed graduate summa cum laude.
“Well, let me see it!” Corrine exclaimed. She may have been even more excited about receiving the test score than Zenovia.
Corrine shrieked as she looked at the test paper. “Your mother is going to be so proud of you! Have you invited her to graduation?”
“I haven’t talked to her, Corrine. She may not even know that it’s time for me to graduate.”
Zenovia plopped down on her secondhand sofa, and wiped unexpected tears from her face. She thought that she was far from still being emotional over Audrey’s illness and their lack of communication. But it was the important times in her life when it was apparent that Audrey was missing in action as a mother.
“Do you want me to call her?” Corrine asked.
“No, Corrine. Don’t do that. If Audrey hasn’t called me, she’s either too sick to think of me, or she’s going along with the Brethren and purposely not dealing with me. Either way, she’s not going to be at my graduation.”
“That Brethren of the Sacrifice ain’t nothing but a cult! Someone should call Oprah or something.”
Zenovia shook her head and chuckled. “What would Oprah do, Corrine?”
“Girl, she’d blow the roof right off that thing. Oprah loves to tackle social injustice. That’s her thing.”
“Well, right now I can’t worry about what Ms. Winfrey might think about the Brethren. I’m getting ready to graduate from college!”
“I will be sitting front and center, and no matter what you say, I’m screaming when you cross the stage,” Corrine said proudly. “Are you inviting your man?”
By your man she meant Justin, of course. “Justin is not my man, Corrine. He’s just my friend.”
“Okay, whatever. Are you inviting your friend?”
“Yes, I am inviting my friend, Justin.” Zenovia was completely unsuccessful in hiding her smile.
She and Justin had gone on several “dates,” although Zenovia didn’t know if she could actually define their outings as dates, because there was none of the typical date activity. They spent most of their time comparing notes on the Brethren over takeout food.
After speaking with Bishop Wilcox, Zenovia was determined to free herself of the guilt that had plagued her since she left the Brethren. Justin was on the journey with her because he too carried similar feelings of guilt and unworthiness.
“That Lynora sure wants to beat you down,” Corrine said. “You stole her man.”
Zenovia had been visiting Reaching the Masses for four weeks in a row since her meeting with Bishop Wilcox. Justin visited, too, and sat with Corrine and Zenovia each time. Lynora was not the least bit happy about this, and her facial expression let everyone in the congregation know. But Justin was always the gentleman and he greeted Lynora each Sunday with a hug.
“Oh well. I don’t think they were anything more than friends, even though she seemed to believe that they were. Justin is not the kind of guy you can really claim.”
“If he was the kind of guy you could claim, would you be trying to claim him?”
Zenovia put one finger up into the air. “Uh-uh, Corrine. You are not going to do this. Justin is my friend and I enjoy his company. That’s as far as it’s going right now.”
“Well, I guess that’s better than nothing. I thought you were going to become a nun or something.”
“Are you coming to my graduation?” Zenovia asked Justin as they devoured a box of pepperoni pizza.
“Are you inviting me?”
“Only if you’re coming.”
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Justin laughed out loud. “Yes, Zee, I’m coming to your graduation.”
“Will you be able to get off work?”
“Yes. I’ve got some personal time stored up. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
Zenovia smiled. “Good, because you and Corrine will be my entire cheering section. I sure appreciate you.”
“I wish I was graduating too. If it wasn’t for the Brethren…”
Zenovia placed one hand over Justin’s. She wanted to stop him before he went down his recurring road of anger that turned into a personal pity party. She’d heard it all over the past four weeks, and while she was patient with her friend, he was beginning to sound like a broken record.
“If it wasn’t for the Brethren we wouldn’t be friends, right?”
“All right, Zee, I’ll give you that. But I still wish I’d gotten some scholarships when I was in high school. It’s gonna break the bank for me to go now.”
“You should still go, though. You’ll just have to work your way through.”
Justin nodded and pulled an envelope out of his pocket. He tossed it across the table to Zenovia. “What is this?” she asked.
“Open it.”
Zenovia opened the pretty ivory envelope and realized that it was an invitation. A wedding invitation.
To Tristan and Mia’s wedding.
The lettering on the invitation was done beautifully in an elaborate script. It made the invitation look more expensive than it probably was. That was typical of Mia.
But it was not typical of Tristan. Neither the invitation nor the bride was typical of the levelheaded, reasonable Tristan that she’d once called her friend. What had happened in his life to make Mia the bride of choice? It didn’t make any sense.
She slid the envelope back to Justin. “Why did you show me that? I don’t care about them. I thought Alyssa was the one who was engaged.”
“She is, but that looks like it’s going to be a long engagement. Mom doesn’t approve and her guy is broke.”
Zenovia couldn’t really describe what she felt when she read the names on the invitation. As much as she’d tried to deny it, she’d always known that this was the inevitable end for Tristan and Mia. Why couldn’t she have had a vision about Tristan and Mia getting married? It would’ve saved her a lot of hurt feelings, wasted energy, and teenage angst.
In the Midst of It All Page 18
