Like Sheep Gone Astray (2 page)

“Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place! We're having church today!” Pastor Green exclaimed as Anthony took his place on the pulpit.

From his seat, Anthony agreed. He could see the entire congregation. Hands were clapping, feet were tapping, all in a mesmerizing unison with the clanging cymbals of the drum and the shrill chords of the pianist. Floppy paper fans and bold feather hats dotted the sanctuary, as did the cries of “Amen” and “Thank you, Jesus” blurted out by Sister Ethel, Mother Howard, and Brother Oliver. Anthony knew that it was just a matter of time before the rest of the parishioners, most of whom were already standing and rocking along to the music, would join in the growing crescendo of praise.

The deacons sat solemn-faced in their usual front-row seats. A flurry of white prayer caps covered the heads of the missionaries sitting across the aisle from the deacon board. Anthony watched as a bag of peppermints passed back and forth between the two rows of these ladies, most of whom were considered the Mothers of the church.

He imagined for a second that his Great-Aunt Rosa was still sitting among them. He could still smell the oversized buttery biscuits she pulled out of the oven every Sunday after church.
The family used to be so close,
he reminisced, almost tasting the crispy fried chicken and salty collard greens Aunt Rosa put on her dining room table every week between services. He swallowed hard, remembering the series of tragedies during his teen years that seemed to claim everyone near and dear to him. By his eighteenth birthday, Aunt Rosa and his church family were all he'd had left.

“Life don't make sense sometimes,” Aunt Rosa used to tell him, “but God still has plans for you. Look at Joseph in the Bible. All the sufferin' he went through was just to get him to a high place. Remember Joseph, and when you ain't got nothin' else, hold on to God and your integrity.”

Integrity.
The word stung him even as he sat smiling on the pulpit. He had let her down. He had let them all down.

Rosa Bergenson had moved “back home” to South Carolina after Anthony married, but she was still revered as a leading matriarch of the church. A special seat in the front pew was reserved for her every Church Anniversary Weekend even though the Anniversary Committee members knew her failing health would prevent her attendance. Anthony hadn't called her in months, convinced she would somehow sense his guilt even over the telephone.

“Let the redeemed of the Lord say so! Let the people of God
rejoice!
” Pastor Green boomed, bringing Anthony back into the service.

The entire church was jolted by a wave of electricity as the organist set the keys of his instrument on heavenly fire. Shrieks of “Hallelujah” courted dances of worship. Some of the mothers and sisters of the church swirled around in the aisles while a few of the brothers stomped in jubilee. The senior ushers and nurses raced around frantically with fans and cups of water to assist those overcome by the Spirit.

Anthony allowed his soul to enjoy the warmth, taking in the sweetness from heaven like a dry garden swallowing long-awaited rainwater. He let his feet tap along to the one-two beat of the drum as a growing surge of living waters seemed ready to burst out of him. He stood to lift his hands higher, forgetting that his Bible and sermon notes were still in his lap. With a loud thump they fell to the floor. As he bent down to retrieve his scattered possessions, his eyes caught hold of the letter peeking out of his Bible.

Maybe it's not too late,
he considered as he reorganized his papers.
I haven't said anything to anybody, and those who do know would not dare expose themselves.

He glanced over at Pastor Green, who was basking in the presence of glory. His eyes, normally gentle in character, seemed ablaze in fiery joy as he nodded back at Anthony.

It's not too late! Thank you, Lord! There's got to be another way to handle this.
Anthony thought of tearing the letter into small pieces right then and there. Relief rushed within him, nudging away a burden that had been growing far too long.

But then he spotted Terri in the congregation. Her ice blue suit stood out in the warm sea of worshippers.
No matter what.
He remembered his resolve in the study. Anthony refolded the letter, tucked it back into his Bible, and quietly sat down.

Terri Murdock wanted to shove Sister Pearl out into the center of the aisle.

“If this old bat steps on my foot one more time,” she mumbled to herself, “this church will see some real laying on of hands.”

With a scowl pulling at her full, berry-painted lips, she bent over to wipe the fresh scuffmarks off her new—and expensive—light blue shoes. She checked a rhinestone-and-silver clasp before sitting up and jeering at her jubilant neighbor.

“Thank you, Jesus!” Sister Pearl shouted, oblivious to Terri's rolling eyes. Four-year-old Tyreeka Oliver turned around in her seat, peeking over the edge of the wooden pew to examine Terri and the Spirit-filled, stomping Sister Pearl. Terri flashed the child a large white smile.

“Bless Jesus,” she moaned, letting her eyes drift dreamily to the ceiling while waving both her hands. When Terri saw the plaited pigtails of the little girl bobbing in another direction, she rolled her eyes again and snatched her hands back into her lap.

“Just hurry on up with this service,” she groaned. She studied the church bulletin, noting that only a quarter of the planned program had been covered. Offering had not yet been taken. The announcements still needed to be read. And Pastor Green had not even begun his morning remarks.
I hope Anthony gives a short sermon today.
She sighed to herself while glancing at the pulpit.

Anthony sat slouched in his seat, his eyes studying the red carpet. He looked distant and preoccupied, shuffling and reshuffling the papers in his hand.
This is not the same man I met five years ago.
Terri frowned.

She daydreamed about the first time she saw him. She'd just left the office of a client and was headed back to her car when she heard door chimes ringing to her right. There he was, strolling out of the Golden Touch Dry Cleaners and Tailoring in the busy downtown district. From the number and quality of suits he carried, she knew instantly that he was some type of working professional with a lot of money and a lot of class. He walked like he had jazz in his shoes, a syncopated, sure-of-yourself strut that was smooth and easy. She remembered the warm shiver she'd felt when she studied not only his strapping six-two frame, but also his luxurious brown suede overcoat flapping wildly in the wind. She was rendered speechless, and had frozen, before realizing too late that he had disappeared in the congestion.

Terri smiled to herself, thinking how good confidence and cash looked on a caramel-colored brother. Isn't that what she'd almost told him the second time she saw him, at the gym, a week after that first sighting? How she had missed a brother like that working out in her two years of regular exercise she didn't know, but she was not going to let opportunity pass by her again.

By the time they'd finished their conversation outside the locker rooms about how they had both secured their dream jobs through successful college internships and were well on their way up very lucrative career ladders, she knew she had him hooked. The man had money written all over him. Together they would read like Forbes magazine, and he knew it. Terri's smile deepened at the memories. Then she looked back up at Anthony sitting on the pulpit, and both her smile and the memories quickly faded and fizzled away.

“Ouch!” Terri hissed, rubbing her foot. “Sister Pearl needs to hurry up and sit down,” she mumbled to herself. She sighed in relief as she saw some of the deacons and trustees getting the collection plates.

“At least the service is moving forward now.” She rechecked her watch.

“…And so may I present to some and introduce to others, our very own, Minister Anthony Murdock.” The junior usher charged with the introduction crumpled up the index card and hurried back to his seat. A light applause and a string of Amens rippled through the congregation as Anthony took his place behind the lectern.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he stood quietly for a moment, gazing out into the faces of people who thought they knew him. He was careful to avoid Terri's blank stare. After looking up at the balcony and then letting his eyes circle the rest of the church, he began.

“Good morning, church,” he started. “I'd like to first give honor to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for giving me this opportunity to stand once more before you this morning.”

“Amen, amen.” A deacon nodded.

“And to Pastor Green, the deacon board and officials, and all the members of this great assembly.” Anthony turned to each as he acknowledged them. “And last but not least, I want to give honor to the lady who keeps me going with her words of encouragement and her prayers, my wife, Terri. Won't you stand, baby?”

Anthony thought how phony his own words sounded to him as Terri Murdock quickly stood, her painted lips arched in a full beauty-pageant smile.

“And now to the business at hand.” Anthony hesitated. He held on to the lectern with both hands for balance.

“Proverbs chapter four, verses twenty-six and twenty-seven. This message is for the young people, but I believe that there's a word in this for all of us. The scripture says, ‘Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established. Turn not to the right hand nor to the left: remove thy foot from evil.’]”

“Yes, Lord!” one of the Mothers shouted.

“Here are two short verses that give a lifelong message,” he said. “
Webster's Dictionary
tells us that the word ponder means to think deeply about, to carefully consider, to weigh. And what must we be considering and weighing? Let's say it together: ‘the path of thy feet.’] That means that we must be deliberate in our choices. We must carefully think about where our choices will lead us.”

“My, my, my.” Sister Ethel shook her head.

“My dear children, my church friends, where are you headed this morning? What path are you on? Where are your feet taking you? You and I must examine the road of our lives. But we can't just stop at considering where we are. No, that's not the last verse in the chapter.”

The church warmed up again as echoes of “That's right” and “Tell it” and “Amen” bounced off of every wall and out of every corner.

“See, once we consider our path and make sure that we are established in righteousness, then we must not turn in any way. We have got to get on the right path and we have got to stay on the right path. It's a constant walk. If you find your foot on the wrong path, standing in a place of evil, God's word tells you to remove it!”

Anthony stopped suddenly, awkwardly.

“That's okay, son!” one of the older deacons shouted.

“Preach, boy!” Another one laughed while slapping his knee. Anthony took a slow sip of water, thinking only of the letter hidden in his Bible.
What will they all say?
he wondered.

He said a quick prayer for strength to continue and picked up his papers again. This time he simply read the rest of his notes, being careful to inflect his voice to a higher pitch every time the audience grew excited. Together, he and the flock of Second Baptist Church of Shepherd Hills finished the sermon. When the invitation was given and the doors of the church were open, salty tears streamed down Anthony's face.

“Ain't our Jesus sweet?” a lady with a large purple hat dipping over her face shouted from the back row. She stomped both her feet on the padded carpet before jumping out of her seat and wiping the tears from her own eyes.

“Yes, He is, my sister,” Anthony soberly responded. But only he and Jesus knew exactly why he was crying.

Pastor Green studied Anthony from where he stood at the far edge of the pulpit. His thumb and forefinger rested on his chin as a wrinkle settled in his forehead. “Father, Father,” he prayed softly.

“It's time for the benediction, church,” Anthony said with outstretched hands.

“Hallelujah!” a woman shouted. Tyreeka Oliver turned around to peek over the pew once again. “Bless Jesus!” the woman behind her moaned.

Terri Murdock drummed her fingers on the passenger seat of her old Mercedes-Benz. She dropped her head into her hands with a heavy sigh as she noted the growing crowd of exiting parishioners surrounding her husband. The church door was only twenty-five feet away from where she sat waiting in the car, but it had already taken him fifteen minutes to travel only three of those feet.

“You preached today, boy,” she overheard Deacon Ellis encouraging Anthony.

Terri rolled her eyes. She did not know when or if she would ever get used to this preaching thing. It was not that she minded the good-church-boy image. If anything, his spirituality, along with his clean-cut features and promising career, of course, had been the clincher in claiming him as the perfect catch—
her
perfect catch. But she had never expected it to get this far.

“Girl, you know this preaching business won't last long,” Cherisse, her best friend and confidante, would continually assure her, twirling one of her long neat braids between two fingers. “Anthony's too proud and pretty of a man to
really
believe that this is what God told him to do. He'll be calling Shaw Enterprises any day now, begging for his old job back. It's just a phase he'll grow out of real quick when he's ready to buy a new Versace suit.”

Terri wholeheartedly believed that her friend was right. But six months had passed and Anthony still seemed content with his new job at a small business firm where he was earning less than a quarter of his former near-six-figure income. And he had just recently registered to take even more classes at the local Bible college.

Terri glanced down at her diamond-studded platinum watch and let out an exaggerated sigh.
It's almost one-thirty! I hope Anthony hurries up.
She turned her eyes toward him, hoping to catch his attention, thinking that maybe he would see the boredom on her face and hurry to the car.

“My, my, my, what a word!” Mother Howard embraced Anthony. Terri dropped her head back on the car seat.