The Pastor's Husband

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “I hate to cut our meeting short, but I have a conference call,” Greg says. “Lena will show you the rest of what you need today. Welcome to the ministry team.”

  “Thank you, Pastor Greg. We’re going to do some great things together.”

  He gives me a huge smile. “I believe that.”

  Well, that’s two of us. And when two or three touch and agree on a thing, heaven will unfold. It’s called partnership. Something Greg’s wife prophesied about, but clearly has no clue about. If she did, she wouldn’t be in another state filming a talk show and doing conferences while her husband works like a dog building their ministry.

  That’s okay though. I’m here now, so Greg has a partner now. We’re definitely about to do some great things. For the kingdom.

  CHAPTER 35

  FELICIA

  My new friend Lena invited me on a shopping trip, which has been entirely fun and tiring. Now we’re having lunch at an expensive steakhouse that I’ve been meaning to try since I got to Dallas—my treat. It’s not like Lena can afford to eat where I eat, but I don’t mind a little charity when she definitely has some things that I need.

  I watch Lena flip through the pages on the menu, from front to back and from back to front again.

  “You see anything you want to have for lunch?” I ask.

  “Girl, the prices aren’t even on the menu,” Lena says. “You sure I can order anything I want?”

  “Yep. We have worked up an appetite, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t do nearly as much shopping as you did.”

  I give Lena a smile that doesn’t give away anything that I’m thinking. First, I would like to take her wig shopping. In fact, I am going to take her wig shopping, I just have to figure out how to do it. If she’s going to be going out in public with me, I need to help her step her game up.

  And she is definitely going to be in public with me, because she’s my in with Greg. I thought it was going to be Mother Olivia, but she’s pretty sharp. Sometimes older people have an intuition about things. It’s called mother wit, and she’s got it. I’m not trying to have her reveal me before I get a foothold. Lena is much easier.

  “I usually do much more damage than that,” I say. “I think shopping with you today helped me pace myself.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Lena asks. “How did you make your money? And can I be down?”

  I give a little chuckle. There’s no way I’m telling her what happened in Atlanta. I should’ve anticipated this question, especially around church folk who are always looking for their destiny come-up. I didn’t really plan a good response to give people when they ask me this.

  “Am I being too personal? I’m just asking because you don’t seem to have a regular job.” Lena glances down at the menu nervously, then back up at me.

  “I have invested well, and although I don’t have a regular job, I do freelance work. I write grant proposals for private companies, just like I did for the church.”

  “Oh, girl, I was gonna ask if you had a body shaper empire or something that I could get a piece of.”

  “Body shaper? Oh, those girdles?”

  “Yes. This one sister at the church makes about five thousand dollars a month having those body shaper parties.”

  “I would never sell something that gives the illusion of proper diet and exercise. I think men get mad about those things.”

  Lena throws her head back and laughs. “Who cares about them? It’s about how snatched we look in our dresses. They can be mad about it if they want.”

  “You have to care about how men think if you want to get one.”

  Lena laughs out loud. “I thought we were saved and single.”

  “Oh, right. We are.”

  “Well, are you dating someone right now?” Lena asks while she continues with her laughter. “And if you are, does he have a brother?”

  I give her a tiny smile. “I am currently single, but when my Boaz finds me, I’m going to be ready to be his partner in every way.”

  “You mean like in business too?”

  I nod. “Business, ministry, whatever he’s called to do. I’m going to be ready to compliment him.”

  “Whoo, girl. I do not want a minister. I would never marry a minister.”

  Now she has truly shocked me. Most of the women I know who attend church dream of being a first lady.

  “Really? Why not?”

  Lena lifts her eyebrow. “Let me tell you, being a pastoral assistant, I have seen way too much. It’s totally turned me away from wanting a man in ministry.”

  “Girl, get out of here,” I laugh. “Pastor Greg is a saint.”

  “He may very well be, but the way these women scheme to get him is crazy. I would never want to be married to a man with that much access to available coochie. Excuse my French.”

  I drop my jaw and give her my surprised look. “Who would do that? I mean, I could see if he was single, then all bets are off. May the best woman win. But what can someone gain by chasing an unavailable man?”

  “I don’t know. But what I do know is that if I was Pastor Nya, I would bring my behind home sometimes. She’s away more than she’s in town. If Pastor Greg wanted to, he’d have plenty of time to play.”

  This is information that I already know. Everyone knows that Nya travels a lot. That’s not going to help me.

  “Well, as long as Pastor Greg supports her in her ministry, I applaud Pastor Nya. She is making an impact in the kingdom.”

  “Operative words, as long as Pastor Greg supports her . . .”

  “He doesn’t? Girl, stop. I don’t believe that.”

  She narrows her eyes and leans in. “I overheard him on the phone one time. He was practically begging her to come home.”

  “It’s never a good thing when a man begs.”

  “Thank you!” Lena throws her arms in the air to emphasize her point. “Your husband shouldn’t have to beg to see you.”

  “I wonder if Pastor Nya has anyone mentoring her, and telling her these things,” I say, sounding way more concerned than I actually am.

  “She’s been groomed by Bishop and Lady Bowens. They’ve been her biggest teachers since she did that suddenly blessing prophecy all those years ago.”

  I feel my eye twitch. “Oh, I’ve heard about that message. It’s what put her on the map, right?”

  “Mm-hmm. I was there. The girl she gave that prophecy to was a hot mess at the altar. God really moved that night.”

  I feel myself twitch again.

  “I’m sure He did.”

  “Anyway, I’m definitely team Pastor Greg and Pastor Nya. I’ve been with them since the beginning. They definitely have a heart for the people, and Pastor Nya’s speaking engagements have done so much for our church financially.”

  “I am in support of them too. I’m happy to be a part of this ministry.”

  “Just keep Pastor Greg in your prayers. Virtuous women like us have to hold him down.”

  “I will. I’ll pray for Pastor Nya too.”

  And this is a true statement. I will pray for her. I’ll pray that she is soon shown the error of her ways, and I’ll pray that when she falls, that she finds the strength to get up again. Just like I did.

  CHAPTER 36

  NYA

  “Tell me what you need God to do in your life, honey,” I ask the young woman who has stepped out of the aisle and is approaching the front of the church.

  I glance to the left and right cautiously, looking for the security staff. This is my first time in this church in New Orleans. Penelope and I flew in this morning from Atlanta to do this Suddenly Blessed conference. My spirit has felt heavy since we set foot in the city. I always feel that way here, or anywhere people make it a point to try and connect with the spirit realm. It is an unsettling feeling, because I can discern evil spirits as well as the Holy Spirit. I’m never afraid, but definitely uncomfortable.

  I feel myself relax as the church security steps into place. Since the tele
vision show has gained more popularity, the number of people who show up just wanting face time with a celebrity has drastically increased.

  “I need a healing in my body,” she screams.

  I can tell her cries are authentic. Now I start praying, because I have no clue what to do next. Lord, please help me. Please empower me to help her. Show me something.

  I can feel God’s Spirit quicken inside me. He’s about to do something miraculous in here tonight. Jesus!

  The woman sits in her doctor’s office. He shows her scans of her breasts. They are full of tumors.

  “It’s stage four, and it has metastasized to your lungs and lymph nodes. We can try radiation and chemo, but there is no surgical option, because of where some of the tumors are situated. There is only time to shrink these tumors, but we can’t get rid of them.”

  “How long do I have?”

  “Could be weeks. I would say six months tops, and that is being optimistic.”

  The scene changes. The doctor’s office is gone, and now there’s a funeral home with a pretty white casket at the front. A little girl walks up to the casket and reaches in. She touches the woman’s face. The woman from the doctor’s office.

  Oh no. Not this. My hands tremble as the vision fades. I can’t tell her that I just saw her in a casket. I can’t promise her a healing for her body. She’s desperate, and there’s nothing I can say that will give her solace.

  “You have cancer,” I say in the microphone. There’s no growl or mysticism in my voice. I’m actually hoping that she tells me no, and makes me believe the vision is all in my imagination.

  The woman nods as she approaches the front of the church. I take the microphone and hand it to Penelope, who has risen from her seat in the pulpit. I walk down the stairs, directly to the woman. I grab some tissues from one of the ministers and help wipe her face.

  Then I whisper to her, “God wants you to find peace. Spend time with your little girl.”

  “You see my little girl?” the woman asks between sobs.

  “I do. God showed her to me.”

  “W-was she okay? Is she gonna be okay?”

  Although God didn’t show me the fate of her child, I believe it’s okay to comfort her. “She’s going to be fine. She’s going to be in God’s loving arms.”

  The woman nods and wipes her tears with the tissues, and allows the ministers to walk her back to her seat.

  I am unable to continue, though. This has wiped me out. God has never done this to me before. Shown me a situation where I can’t help. I look up at Penelope and shake my head.

  Typically this is the cue for Penelope to start singing, but as the musicians start playing, Penelope holds her hand in the air and motions them to stop.

  “Sister with cancer. Come back to the altar. God is not done speaking on your behalf tonight.” Penelope’s voice comes out like a husky, harsh whisper.

  The ministers are confused. They know to take direction from me during the service, but Penelope is just the psalmist. No one takes direction from her except the musicians.

  When I don’t stop them, the ministers walk the woman back down to the altar area. I’m not sure what I should do, so I wait to see what Penelope has in mind.

  Penelope starts to walk down to the woman. Then she kicks off her heels.

  “Sometimes you’ve got to get rid of all your niceties and accoutrements when God is telling you to move,” she says into the microphone.

  The crowd is responding to this, and it seems to give Penelope energy. I begin to pray internally that she’s not about to do something crazy.

  When Penelope gets to the woman, she places one hand on her belly.

  “Ministers, I need y’all to be touching every one of her limbs. Not one of her extremities should go untouched.”

  There is a sense of urgency in her voice. She’s getting everyone excited.

  “One of y’all get the small of her back. Get your hands on her now!”

  When everyone’s hands are placed on the woman, Penelope leans her head back and starts to speak in tongues.

  Every few syllables she says, “Yes, Holy Ghost!” or “Hallelujah.” I wonder what she’s doing, but I don’t step in. What if it is a move of God? I don’t want to be a hindrance.

  After a few minutes of hearing Penelope speak and sing in tongues, she gets quiet. Silence falls over the congregation.

  “God said you will be healed of your infirmity.”

  The woman gives her a confused look, and then she looks at me with questions in her eyes.

  I want to snatch that microphone out of Penelope’s hand, but Lady Sandy is standing with her hands lifted toward the heavens.

  “Do you receive your healing, sister?”

  The woman nods slowly, then more quickly, then she bursts into tears. She wants to be healed so badly.

  But I know what I saw in my vision. And I know it was God. This is not God. This is worse than what I did with that girl in the Women’s Empowerment session. She’s giving this woman hope that she will live instead of allowing her to have peace with her situation. God wanted to give her peace and Penelope just gave her a lie.

  I can’t do anything except pray.

  Even as I whisper the words to my prayer, I know that part of me is somewhat bothered by the fact that the woman chose to believe Penelope’s prophecy over mine. When did Penelope have a proven prophetic word? What made her word more credible than mine? I know . . . it isn’t about the prophetic word being credible, it is about it being incredible. And the woman’s situation is beyond impossible.

  Then Penelope starts to sing into the microphone. As the lyrics of “Break Every Chain” ring throughout the sanctuary, I feel more bound and trapped than I’ve ever felt before. I can’t rebuke her or fix this, because who would believe me in here? We’re leaving a woman more broken than she was when she got here. I remember my cousin’s warning about respecting the gift.

  Tears of repentance flow from my eyes. My false words started all of this. And now the gift has been perverted, again, in front of an entire crowd. And Penelope looks taller as she struts with her shoulders back, singing at the top of her lungs. People fall out in the aisles and it’s a great spectacle.

  A spectacle that has nothing to do with God.

  As soon as service is over, Penelope and I retreat to the minister’s room in back of the church. I sit at the vanity dabbing sweat from my brow. Penelope lounges on the velvet couch happily humming a worship song. I try to think of something to say to her that isn’t wrathful. I can’t.

  “What was that you did in the service tonight?” I ask, my words sounding like rapid-fire gunshots.

  Penelope looks up from her cell phone and smiles. “Don’t you mean what did God do? He made me his mouthpiece tonight.”

  “Really? What did that feel like?”

  “It was like I felt a rushing wind that no one else could feel. And when that wind hit me, the tongues came. As I began to speak, God gave me interpretation of the words. I have never experienced anything like that before.”

  “I had a vision about the woman too. It’s funny. What you said to her was the complete opposite of what God showed me. I think . . . in fact, I know, you lied to her.”

  There. Blunt is best. I’m not about to play games with this girl tonight. I’m tired and I don’t feel like verbally sparring. I just want her to know that I know what she did.

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “You did. My vision was of her in a casket with her little girl standing next to it. She is not going to be healed.”

  “Well, what did you say when you whispered in her ear?” Penelope asks with a scared tremble in her tone.

  “I told her to spend time with her daughter and to find peace.”

  “Why would God want her to hear that? It’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

  I shake my head. “It is not up to me to decide what God wants to tell people. It is only my job to pass on the message.”


  “Did you tell her you saw her in a casket?”

  “Not in those words, but what I told her pointed to the fact that her time left here is short.”

  Penelope shakes her head. “No. Your vision was wrong. I know what God wanted me to do and I did it.”

  “You’re playing with the gift.”

  “I’m not!” Penelope whines. “I’m doing what you do. I fasted for three days straight. I asked God to speak through me, and He did. You’re just mad that my prophecy was received and yours was not.”

  I feel a vein in my forehead begin to throb, because I know she’s serious. As ridiculous and desperate as she sounds, I know she’s dead serious.

  I stand and leave the minister’s room. I can’t even share the air with Penelope right now. Tina is in the hallway waiting for me.

  “You good, Nya? I could tell you were wiped out.”

  “This entire evening stole every last bit of my strength. I just want to go and lie down.”

  Tina looks uncomfortable. “Are you sure you want to go straight back to the hotel? You don’t want to get something to eat first?”

  “We can pick up some fast food. I just want my head to make contact with the pillow in as little time as possible.”

  “Um . . . the pastor wants us to have dinner with a few of his ministry staff. They want to take you and Prophetess Penelope to eat.”

  I tilt my head back and sigh. I’m not in the mood for this.

  “Prophetess Penelope? Really?”

  “Hey, they called her that. I was as surprised as you are right now.”

  “Okay to dinner, but I’m not staying all night,” I say. “I can’t be around Penelope without wrapping my hands around her neck and squeezing.”

  We ride over to the restaurant in separate cars at my request. I don’t want to hear any more of Penelope’s stupidity, and I don’t want to say something that might hurt her feelings.

  The gentleman driving us is one of the ministry staff, and he’s friendly enough. He keeps pointing out things of interest in New Orleans, but I’m too distracted to pay any attention.

  When we arrive at the restaurant we are shown to a table that has already been prepared for us. Immediately everyone starts talking and socializing. I’m quiet, though, still trying to recover from that service.