by Dijorn Moss
“Let me get a pack of Newports,” I tell the attendant.
The gas attendant grabs a pack of Newports and sets them on the counter. I slide a twenty dollar bill under the window and the attendant slides back my change and my cigarettes.
I walk back over to Lane’s restaurant and I pick up my breakfast. I also order a cup of coffee to go. With breakfast, coffee, and a pack of smokes in hand, I’m ready to start my day. So I walk back to my hotel room. Back at my hotel room, minutes from the meeting at last night’s roadside motel play on repeat in my mind.
I can see both the appeal and controversy that surrounds Pastor Robinson. She has an edge to her ministry that can spark admiration from her followers and scorn from her critics. I can tell that her disposition is that she doesn’t care either way. Pastor Robinson is a woman of purpose and not even her husband, Tony Robinson, can derail her purpose.
I want to go by the church and get a feel for how the church works. Sundays are not a good measuring stick for a ministry. The staff is usually on their best behavior when visitors are around. It is during the week when I can get a good feel for how a ministry operates. If the right people are in place then a ministry can weather any storm, but the wrong people serving in ministry is a cancer to a church.
Too many relatives, too many well-meaning but incompetent people are millstones around the necks of a ministry. I have seen it happen too often and the worst part is that these internal issues will leave the church defenseless against the enemy.
I am not here to restructure a ministry, but I have no problems leaving notes for how a ministry can clean house when I am gone. I finish my breakfast and get dressed. My next stop is Jubilee Temple.
I arrive at Jubilee Temple and am greeted by Anita, the church secretary. Anita is a heavyset girl with thick glasses.
“Good morning and God bless.” Anita’s words are tailored with warmness. Anita’s spirit leaves little doubt as to why she is employed in her current capacity as church secretary.
“Minister Nicodemus Dungy to see Pastor Robinson.”
It is awkward to mention my title with my name. I almost forget that I am an ordained minister who graduated from one of the top Bible colleges in the country. My days at seminary seem like a lifetime ago. My vigor is gone and my purpose grows cloudier with age and experience and I grow weary.
“Minister Dungy, thank you for coming.” Pastor Robinson comes out in a cherry red pantsuit. Her aura conveys power without a hint of weakness.
“God bless you, Pastor,” I say as Pastor Robinson signals for me to follow her to her office. Once I enter Pastor Robinson’s office, I become lightheaded by all of the accolades on the wall.
A woman in ministry is always under scrutiny and Pastor Robinson always has to prove herself. Pastor Robinson’s office speaks more about her insecurities than it speaks about her anointing. Secure pastors are purpose driven, while insecure pastors are accomplishment driven.
I examine all of the pictures that Pastor Robinson has with influential people and then call my attention to a picture on her desk of her husband. I notice that there are no children in the picture and that this picture was taken when the love was still new and the young girl in the picture was not a prominent pastor.
I pick up the picture and Pastor Robinson shoots me a look as if I have caused a great offense. I have an idea of the kind of love she and her husband once had and how far the two have grown apart.
“So what do you need from me, Minister Dungy?”
“That was something else last night. I’ve heard of women ministers who minister to women on the track, but I’d never seen it until last night.”
“There’s nothing that I hate more than a pastor who talks about going out to the lost and preaching the Gospel, but they never do it. Wouldn’t you agree, Minister Dungy?”
“Nic.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nic, call me Nic. I’m only a minister in title. What you do is ministry.” I sit down in the chair positioned in front of Pastor Robinson.
“I would beg to differ.”
“So what did Tony think about your ministry?”
“He didn’t think anything,” Pastor Robinson replies.
“He did; otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Are snap judgments a part of your method?” Pastor Robinson looks up from her paperwork.
“Pretty much, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. You have an intense ministry and I can imagine that a loving husband would be concerned about his wife being out all hours of the night evangelizing in some unsafe areas.”
“That’s the kind of answer I expect from a male minister. But it’s okay for you to be out all hours of the night?” Pastor Robinson says.
“I’m not here to engage in a debate with you. You don’t like my opinions; well, that’s fine, but your husband has left and something tells me that it’s not just the rumors of an affair, but your overall involvement in ministry.”
“I know you’re not married because there’s no ring on your finger, but the question is why?” Pastor Robinson asks.
“I’m too smart to get married.”
“That’s not a biblical perspective on marriage.”
“Hey, the Apostle Paul was also smart enough not to get married and he wrote the majority of the New Testament. Paul understood that the preaching of the Gospel requires full dedication.”
“Whatever; a husband should be supportive of his wife.”
Pastor Robinson resumes her paperwork. The absence of emotion is what bothers me the most about Pastor Robinson. Her husband has disappeared for two weeks and she chooses to hire me as opposed to filing a missing person report.
“Let me ask you something.” I put my hands in my pocket.
She responds to me by breaking away from her papers to make eye contact.
“When was the last time you and your husband were intimate?”
“Excuse me?”
“Sex! When was the last time you and your husband had sex?”
“That’s none of your business.” Pastor Robinson tosses her papers on the table.
“It is when I’m looking for your husband. When a marriage waxes cold, the sex life is one of the first things to break down along with communication.”
“You don’t beat around the bush now do you?”
“No, I prefer to pull it out by its roots.” I shrug my shoulders.
“I couldn’t begin to tell you how many months it has been.”
“Months?” I shake my head in disbelief. ”What happened?”
Pastor Robinson leans back in her chair as if it is too much for her to pinpoint. “It started off as a small space, a missed date night here and there; then it grew into working late until it grew into something that neither one of us wanted to address.”
I know Pastor Robinson’s speech word for word. I’ve heard this speech so many times over the years and the saddest thing is that every one of those times I’ve heard that speech it was sincere. There was no difference in this day and age between a Christian marriage and a secular marriage.
“So what about you, Minister Dungy?”
“What about me?”
“You’re a minister of the Gospel and you’re single, so how do you resist temptation?”
No one has ever questioned me like Pastor Robinson. Her question was not birthed out of her curiosity about my sex life, no; she asked the question to put me on defense. “I’m a man of God, but I have had moments of weakness where the flesh has won out.”
Pastor Robinson is taken aback by my honesty. I’m too old and too tired to play dress-up. My life is not squeaky clean and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
“How do you handle it?”
“I stay busy with work. Speaking of which, I’m going to need the address and phone number to your husband’s job.”
“He hasn’t been to work.”
That is the most alarming detail of Tony Robinson’s disappearance. I don’t know too many men who wou
ld miss work on account of their marriage or relationship.
“I’ll go anyway and see what’s what.”
“Okay,” the pastor says.
For someone who claims to be innocent of any extramarital affairs, she sure does not seem innocent. Even more alarming is that the pastor seems unconcerned about her husband’s whereabouts.
Chapter Ten
I drive over to Tony Robinson’s place of employment. I pull into the parking lot of Orbit Software Company. It seems like the first gentleman has a good job as a software engineer. A good job that isn’t worth missing. After I park, I take a moment to review the information that Pastor Robinson has given me. First Gentleman Tony Robinson was born in Richmond, California. His father worked at a sheet metal factory and his mother was a school secretary. Based on the articles from the local newspaper, Tony was a pretty good tailback, but not good enough to go to a Division I school on scholarship. Tony’s glory and fame ended in high school. Tony went on to San Jose State and got a degree in engineering. Tony later got a master’s degree in the same field, and he lived a normal life until his wife, Alicia Robinson, decided to become a preacher.
I watch as the employees enter and exit through a building that can only be accessed by keycard. There is no way I can get into the building, but I might not need to with the weather in my favor. I was wrong in my earlier assessment; the day has turned out to be clear and there is a light breeze. God only knows how many lovely days like this I waste working.
Outside are a few steel benches with an open umbrella to provide shade. Three women sit in a half circle while they devour their salads, the sun, and conversation.
Tony Robinson is a nice-looking guy and I figure that one of the women will know Tony and provide me with some much-needed information. So I make my way toward the women and make sure that I turn my swagger on and up.
“Hello, ladies,” I say.
A few squeals and chuckles and I know that the women lock on to me like a heat-seeking missile.
“I was looking for—”
“Me?” The assumed leader of the pack asks.
I chuckle to myself. I am not a GQ model, but I do have an appeal with women with my rugged looks and conservative style of dress. “I’m looking for Tony Robinson.”
The women look at each other with curious suspicion. I don’t know if my inquiry of the first gentleman sparks controversy or shyness.
“We haven’t seen him.” The leader of the group looks at the other two women. “We haven’t seen him in like a week or two.”
“I thought he was on vacation,” another girl says.
That is a clever question. The woman wants me to divulge information as it relates to Tony’s absence from work, but I am not up for playing that game. These girls don’t know any more information than what I have already obtained.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I was looking to catch up with him,” the leader said.
“Thank you,” I say as I turn away and head toward the car. I don’t want to leave a lasting impression; I just want to get the information I need and go. So far the trip to Tony’s job is a waste of time.
I am not even to my car when I hear the sound of heavy footsteps. I turn around and a heavyset man who is well over the six-feet, 300-pound mark approaches me. I do not want an altercation, especially with a man who is the size of a bear, but the fact that he approaches me means that I am getting close.
“Why are you asking about Tony?” The guy gets close enough to impose his physical dominance over me.
“I just needed to talk to him.”
“You Jesus freaks need to leave him alone.” The guy points at my temple.
My animal instinct is to bite his finger off, but I hold my poise. “Actually I owed him a beer and I came by to clear my debt. But since you’re here I can settle my debt with you.”
Two hours later, and three beers to Mike and four bottles of water to me, and I find myself in the middle of a sports conversation.
“They can’t move the Kings to L.A. That would be stupid to have three L.A. teams. Man, these rich folks are a trip. They just make drastic changes without any regard for the little people.”
“I agree with you.”
I wait for Mike to enjoy another sip of his Heineken. Mike became chatty after the first beer. “Let me ask you something.”
Mike signals for me to keep going as he holds the bottle to his lips.
“What would cause Tony to leave his job?”
Mike slams the bottle down with some force. “Look, man, I ain’t no snitch”
“I’m neither a cop nor a gangster.”
“I’ve never seen my boy talk to you or talk about you. I’ve never even seen you before today.”
“I’m a concerned individual and I’m trying to help reconcile things between Tony and his wife.”
“The broad . . .” Mike catches himself. The alcohol has not tempered his aggression. “She thinks she can help thousands and then disrespect my boy.”
“How?”
Mike straightens up his posture and gives me a stern look. “Look, man, I made it a habit to mind my own business and you should do the same.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, but answer me this: have you seen him recently?”
“About a week ago. He said he needed space. I offered him a place to stay and he said he had a place already.”
“Did he say anything about leaving town?”
Mike replies by shaking his head. I give Mike a pat on his back and step away from the bar. I leave a hundred dollar bill on the bar and signal to the Irish bartender that the money is for Mike. Mike gave me some useful information and I have another person to see before I call Pastor Robinson with an update.
From the bar, I drive out to Richmond, California and make my way to Richmond High School.
Richmond High School is home of the Oilers, which is a bitter emblem for an area that is at a socioeconomic disadvantage. The chips are stacked against the students, which leaves them one main area to strike oil: sports. Based on the file, I know that Tony Robinson fought with every inch to climb out of the pit. The only problem is that Tony used the same pipe dream that everyone else uses.
I sit and observe a football practice already in session. A small group of boys and girls hangs out at the bottom of the bleachers. I sit at the top and I try to tune out their mindless, vulgar chatter. Instead I focus my attention on Head Coach Eric Williams. Williams has been the head coach of Richmond High School for nineteen years. His no-nonsense attitude commands respect from his coaching staff and players. Williams stands out on the sideline deck in a white polo, black slacks, and dark shades with his arms folded like Mr. T. I watch as each player tries to execute each play to perfection, and from the look of Coach Williams, he wouldn’t accept anything less from his players.
I wait until after practice to approach Coach Williams. Even after Coach Williams sends his team to the showers, Williams still stays back and works with a few of his promising players. I head down the steps of the bleachers and cross the dirt track. I’m sure my $300 shoes do not like getting dirt on them, but I have a job to do. Once I cross the track, I am in Coach Williams’s radar.
“Can I help you?’ Coach Williams says.
“Yes. My name is Minister Nicodemus Dungy and I had a few questions to ask you about Tony Robinson.”
Williams maintains his poker face despite the fact that I have just mentioned one of his prized players. Williams starts to walk and I start to follow.
“What do you want to know about Tony?”
“I just wanted to know if you’ve seen him lately.”
My question causes Coach Williams to stop dead in his tracks. “I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. If you can’t find Tony then that means he doesn’t want to be found.”
“He may not want to be found, but he needs to. His wife is worried sick.”
Coach Williams chuckles to himself as he reaches into his
pocket and pulls out a bag of sunflower seeds and pours some in his mouth. I can tell that Coach Williams wants to tell me something, but he needs a reason to trust me.
“Listen, I know you’re loyal to him, but I needed to know if you have either seen or heard from him recently. That’s it, nothing more.”
Williams spits out some of the seeds on the grass. “He came by here about a week ago. He looked like he was upset about something.”
“Did he tell you what about?” I ask.
“I didn’t ask and he didn’t say. He just sat and watched the practice and gave a few pointers to the young bucks. That was it.”
And that is all I need. Between Michael and Eric, I am able to establish a timeline that the last anyone has seen or heard from Tony was a week ago.
“Thank you, Coach, and good luck with the season.” I shake hands with Coach Williams and start to walk away.
“He couldn’t handle pressure,” Coach Williams says.
“Excuse me?’
“Tony. He couldn’t handle pressure. That’s why he didn’t make it. Put him in a game with nothing to lose and Tony was phenomenal, but in the close games and the games that counted for something, he’d fold like a bad hand. You know what I mean?”
“I believe I do.” I step away from Coach Williams to make a phone call.
“Hello,” Pastor says on the other end.
“It’s Nic. I found out that your husband is still in town.”
There is a brief silence that could be interpreted to mean many things.
“Okay, so what happens now?” she finally asks.
“Now I go and see a friend,” I reply.
“Can he find him?”
“He can find for you a burning bush.”
“He could find a burning bush?” Pastor Robinson chuckles, but I don’t because I know that the guy I am going to see is that good.
