Spring, 2013
In Service for a King
Pastor Enoch Jones stood at the foot of the bed. His black double-breasted suit stared at him. He wanted to wear his tan suit, but his wife told him that the black suit was more appropriate for the occasion. Enoch didn't understand why it was a more appropriate choice, though. A suit was a suit, since they were going to a celebration service and not a funeral. He decided not to make a fuss about it. His wife was usually right about things like this.
***
Edna Jones knew that her husband didn't want to wear his black suit. She was able tell when he didn't want to do as he was told. He never said anything to her about it, though. He deferred to her judgment in these types of matters.
Enoch flexed his muscles. Edna blushed and laughed. He was amazed that after all these years, his flirting still worked like that.
"Boy, get dressed and stop messing with me," Edna said.
"I still get you hot after all these years," Enoch said.
"Lord, get Your son. He getting on my nerves."
"Baby you know, I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for this shirt, too sexy for my…"
"Too sexy for your black suit, I guess, too?"
***
Enoch lifted the pink dress shirt from the bed and put it on. "I wanna wear my tan suit. You know I look good in that one. I wanna wear that one."
"You look so much better in this one. You know Mother Caldwell enjoys service better when you wear dark suits. It will make her day."
"Whatever, woman. I think you like to see me in this suit. Are you going to be able to focus on the Lord watching me in this suit?"
***
Edna waved her hand and walked over to her dresser. She put on her earrings that Enoch gave her some years ago. They were her favorites. "You don't plan on preaching a hell-fire and damnation sermon today, do you? Lord knows today ain't the day to do it. We need something to uplift us."
Enoch danced over to his wife and put his hands around her voluptuous hips. Edna tried to wiggle away from him, but he had her engulfed in his arms before she even moved.
Enoch began to sing, "She's a brick house. She's mighty, mighty just letting it all hang out."
Before long, Edna was singing and dancing, too.
***
Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church was bustling with activity. The church mothers were adjusting the streamers all around the church. The deacons were making sure that the pews were in perfect order, sectioning off the appropriate rows for the special guests. Everything had to be perfect for the day's celebration.
Several members had arrived early and were looking at the art work and essays that were displayed in the foyer.
"Mama, that one looks funny," a small child said.
The mother looked around. "Boy, hush your mouth. I don't want these folk thinking you ain't got no home training," she said.
"But it still looks funny," the boy mumbled.
The mother snatched the boy's collar and moved him to another picture. She took one last look at the painting and shook her head.
***
Pastor Jones and his wife pulled their silver Mitsubishi Mirage into the parking space marked especially for them.
Edna waved at the people who watched them park the car. She blew a long hard breath as she tried not to hide her face. Church folk liked to talk and her husband’s car low priced gave them much to talk about.
Pastor Jones walked over to his wife's side of the car and opened the car door for her.
"I see you drove the good car today," a member said from a couple spaces away.
"Yes, I did and I am preserving the Lord's creation," the pastor said.
Edna shook her head as she grabbed the oh shucks bar to get out of the car. Before she had gotten all the way out of the car, Sister Davis was standing right next to the car.
Sister Davis reached to hug the pastor as he held his wife's hand. Pastor Jones adjusted himself so that he could help his wife out of the car. Sister Jones smiled as she extended herself to her full height. Sister Davis backed up, giving this round to Sister Jones.
"Good morning, Sister Davis," Pastor Jones said.
"Good morning, Pastor," Sister Davis said. "I was wondering if you had a minute to talk."
Pastor Jones kissed his wife on her cheek and then draped his arm around her shoulder.
"Sister Davis, please make an appointment with my secretary to see me," Pastor Jones said.
He maneuvered his wife towards the back entrance of the church, slowly. Sister Davis' jaw almost hit the ground. She rolled her neck as she stared at the couple moving further away from her. She refused to be defeated, though. She walked over to the Mirage and scraped the door with her gold sculpted nails.
"Cheap joker," she mumbled.
She smiled and turned towards the front door of the church. She saw the head deacon and his wife looking at her. She rolled her eyes in their direction and went inside the church.
"She need Jesus," the head deacon's wife said. The head deacon laughed.
Pastor Jones and First Lady Jones walked into the front foyer of the church and looked at the art work that graced the hallway. The young people had done some awesome work.
Deacon Johnson and his wife walked over to the pastor and his wife before the sly Sister Davis had a chance to get near them.
"He was a great man," said Deacon Johnson.
"Yes, he was. He did a great work, too," Pastor Jones said.
"His work is still blessing us today," Sis Johnson said.
Sister Davis breezed by the foursome, her heels click-clacking on the linoleum. She swung the door to the sanctuary open widely, almost hitting the wall in the process.
Sister Jones looked at the wall as if it showed a visible wound.
"Ooh that woman. She knows she can't pay to fix that wall. Slangin’ stuff around like she ain't got no home training. She needs to get a grip before I get one on her," Sister Jones said.
"Honey, it's alright. The wall was made to take a lot," Pastor Jones said.
"Uhh huh, somebody just needs to get her, that's all I know," Sister Jones said.
Sister Johnson giggled.
"Deacon Johnson, have you seen a copy of the program?" Pastor Jones asked.
Deacon Johnson stood frozen for a moment. "No, pastor, I haven't seen it yet," he said.
"Well, let's go find a copy of it. I haven't seen the final revision," Pastor Jones said.
Pastor Jones kissed his wife on the cheek and walked into the sanctuary of the church.
***
Pastor Jones entered the sanctuary and saw eight of his eleven children sitting in the section reserved for them. His two-year-old granddaughter turned around and saw him. She squealed and ran towards him. She jumped up into his arms, knocking him backwards a bit. She hugged his neck and let out a grunt. Pastor Jones let his granddaughter down. She ran up to her grandmother and hugged her before she ran back o her mother.
Pastor Jones rushed to greet his children. Christmas seemed like it had been months ago. He wasn't able to see all eleven of his children then, but today he would. That's what always made this Sunday special for him. He got to see all of his children.
Pastor Jones' family had celebrated this day since its inception in 1983. His grandfather, Rev. Maurice E. Jones was a part of the movement and had once met the man they were honoring. The family had been blessed by the meeting, so the story of the fateful encounter had been told at every family event. It was a tradition. A tradition of which Pastor Jones was proud of and he made sure that the Mt. Zion family made a big to-do about it every year. Pastor Jones was happy today. It was going to be an exciting day.
Mother Caldwell walked by the Jones family. She stopped and looked at Pastor Jones. "You look nice today, Pastor. Love that suit," she said.
Sister Jones winked at her husband.
After Pastor Jones hugged all of his children and their families, he left to go talk to one of the other ministers. He left his wife to supervise the children.
Sister Jones greeted her family. They had some great kids and she loved them dearly, even the one that caused them the most grief. She was wondering where Bilal and Ennis were. They would be late to their own funeral. She shook her head.
"Mama Jones, I see you got Pastor to wear his black suit," Erica said. Sister Jones smiled at her daughter-in-law before she said, "Yea, I talked him into it."
"Talked you into it, I wonder how," Matthew, their oldest son said.
"Don't hate the player, hate the game, son," Sister Jones said.
"Mama got game," Matthew said. "Your game still that strong after all these years?"
Sister Jones smacked her son on the shoulder. "You know God don't like ugly," she said.
The entire Jones’ clan laughed.
The church began to fill up. Various shades of brown draped in every color of the rainbow began to fill the sanctuary of the Mt Zion Missionary Baptist Church.
Melodious refrains of greetings drowned out the gospel music that played over the PA system.
People shuffled, moved, and maneuvered to get to their favorite seat, making the sanctuary feel like rush hour traffic.
***
The organist began to play notes that caused the chaotic chatter to cease. People started sitting down in their seats. Once the organist was at the end of his chorus, the sanctuary was ready for service.
An elderly gray haired man walked up to the podium. He grabbed the microphone before he said, "God bless you this morning. I am Rev. Joseph Price. I would like to welcome you to Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church. Please stand with me as I read Psalms 96:1-6. You may view the passage on the screen." Rev. Price read the passage and followed it with a rousing prayer that caused the sanctuary to fill with thunderous praise.
After the praise died down, Rev. Price said, "Please open your bulletins to the responsive reading. I will read the light print and I ask that you read the bold print, and we will read the last verse together, as we observe all punctuation. The responsive reading will come from Habakkuk 2:1-3 and 9-14."
Rev. Price and the congregation finished the responsive reading with a hand clap of praise. As Rev. Price walked to his seat, a balding stocky man, who was the Minister of Music, grabbed a microphone near him and walked to the edge of the stage, followed by a group of people who came from the sides of the pulpit. They grabbed some microphone stands and took their places on the stage.
"Did anybody come to praise the Lord?"
The congregation began clapping and standing.
"Yes, sir, we did!"
"Amen!"
"I came to praise the Lord!"
The Minister of Music walked to the other side of the stage.
"I don't think they ready. Did anybody over here come to praise the Lord?"
That side of the sanctuary clapped wildly.
"We came to praise!"
"Yes, we did!"
"Bless the name of Jesus!"
The musicians began to play a mid-tempo praise song.
The Minister of Music sang…
"We've come this far by faith, leaning on the Lord, trusting in His Holy Word. He never failed me yet. Oh, oh, oh can't turn around. We've come this far by faith…"
The praise team joined the Minister of Music.
The congregation joined in and they sang the song until the angels in Heaven stood up and joined them in praise.
Mt. Zion finished the praise and worship service with a moving rendition of "Bow Down and Worship Him."