Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker
No Ordinary Noel (7 page)
Chapter 12
T
he morning service was well into its second part and the collection plate was near empty. No one had cut a step for the Lord and it felt more like a funeral than a hallelujah good time.
he morning service was well into its second part and the collection plate was near empty. No one had cut a step for the Lord and it felt more like a funeral than a hallelujah good time.
Reverend Tom summoned the courage to preach despite his need for rest and a firm rededication to his God. The message he prayed about and edited from a previous one while he waited in his study received a lukewarm reception.
Several times while he preached “Time to Make a Change,” he heard someone say aloud, “You need to change.” In his entire time preaching before his congregation, he'd never felt so low.
Reverend Tom slowly came to the realization that truly broke-in-the-pocket folk would break the rules. The members had gone from calling out “amen!” to heckling the man of God.
While the reverend struggled through the service, Trustee Noel struggled, too. He sat with his hands folded across his skinny chest and glared. He wanted to cry out, “I've got the millions we need to get us to the Promised Land!”, but he couldn't. His bullheaded pastor's stand on gambling stood in the way. The only thing moving during the uninspired service were the hands on the clock . . . and they moved slowly.
While trustee Noel pondered what to do, so did Sister Betty. She prayed, wept, and did everything but rush up to the pulpit and shake her pastor by his thick neck.
Then the sound of low murmurs broke out over the sanctuary and Sister Betty's head jerked toward the source. She saw him; she knew it was him because it looked like a silver streak of lightning flashed through the front pews.
Before the trustee reached the podium to join the reverend, Sister Betty's knee buckled. It jerked as though a rubber band held it and then broke. It shook enough to cause it to fall away from its resting place on the back of the pew in front of her where it waited to trip Bea, who'd finally arrived, and Sasha before they could cut up again.
“Praise the Lord, Pastor,” Trustee Noel called out. He became almost out of breath as he wrestled with one overzealous usher who tried to stop him.
The trustee held up his white envelope and waved it to get the reverend's attention. “Pastor, please I have a special announcement.” With one strong jerk, he completely threw off the usher twice his size.
From the moment her pastor walked to the pulpit, Sister Betty began to feel uneasy. It grew worse, once he waved away another usher who'd rushed to join the first one holding the trustee.
“Come on, Trustee Noel”âthe reverend beckonedâ“say what's on your mind. God wants our all when we worship.”
“I wanna save my church,” Trustee Noel blurted. He made a final run and it looked as though he tackled the reverend before he thrust the envelope into Reverend Tom's outstretched hand.
Although the reverend's body and spirit felt spent, he managed to remain upright. The skinny trustee actually felt like a gnat had landed upon him.
Meanwhile Elder Batty Brick who sat not far from the trustee remained frozen. The only part of his body that moved was his head and neck, which he managed to swing toward Brother Casanova.
Elder Batty Brick had said nothing, but Brother Casanova didn't need to turn up his hearing aid when he saw Elder Batty Brick mouth the words,
Number two pencil has snapped
. Brother Casanova nodded his assent. They thought the same thing. No matter what Bea and Sasha said, there was no way they were going to trust that crazy man to hang up the coats at the Seniors Prom.
Number two pencil has snapped
. Brother Casanova nodded his assent. They thought the same thing. No matter what Bea and Sasha said, there was no way they were going to trust that crazy man to hang up the coats at the Seniors Prom.
It didn't matter at that moment what others thought. Trustee Noel was riding high. He literally galloped in on those bad feet and was about to save his church.
He was dressed in what he believed was the latest in Super Saint apparel. He wore one of his new JCPenney suits that were Buy One Get Three. He knew he was dapper sharp.
The chocolate brown suit with matching brown leather shoes held the reflection from an overhead light and it made him feel handsome. He smoothed a wrinkle in his light blue shirt and straightened his brown and blue tie. With a dramatic finger gesture, he made certain everyone saw the huge fake cubic zirconium pinky ring, and motioned to the reverend to open the envelope. When he'd dressed that morning he'd promised himself to act blessed and not shy.
His eyes darted about the congregation, looking for Sister Betty. He hoped she'd show a sign that even though he'd not stuck to the plan, he had done the right thing.
When his eyes finally met hers he saw a woman who seemed to levitate off her seat in anger. She glared at him and shook her head. He saw her fumble with her Bible and shift in her seat. None of it was a sign of encouragement, but it didn't matter. Reverend Tom had opened the envelope.
By the time the pastor held up the bank check and laid his arm on the trustee's shoulder, Sister Betty's knee had almost jerked out of its socket. “Oh heavenly Father,” she moaned.
Her head dropped to her chest. The trustee had jumped the gun and she knew nothing good was about to happen. She prayed, “Bind that Devil right now.”
No sooner had Sasha and Bea overheard Sister Betty pray to ask God to bind the Devil, than each sat up in their seats. Sister Betty might not have wanted to see drama, but those two old drama queens started salivating.
While the entire congregation sat stunned or waited for an impromptu Jerry Springer moment, Reverend Tom adjusted the microphone so he could address the church. Unaware that Sister Betty, back in her seat, prayed on his behalf, he felt light as a feather.
“I have in my hand manna from Heaven. This is God's answer to fervent prayer and the key to our Promised Land.” Reverend Tom stopped to let the congregation absorb his words while he clutched the trustee a little closer with one massive arm.
“This is a check for twenty-five million dollars.” Reverend Tom barely spoke the words, before the church's playful organist started playing a remix of Johnny Kemp's hit, “Just Got Paid.”
A quick glaring rebuke from the reverend brought that unscripted part of the service to a halt. The shameless organist sank back onto the organ bench.
One of the ushers who stood near the last pew overheard the pastor's announcement from the back row where for the entire second part of the service, he'd stood resting on one of the seats instead of at attention or handing out fans.
He leaned in and whispered to a seat-filler seated on the edge, “I betcha that trustee must've finally gotten that big money from that lawsuit.”
That's all it took. Within a few seconds, any of the nasty comments ever spoken about the trustee flip-flopped and somersaulted. As the rumor went around the sanctuary, folk started squirming in their seats as if the Spirit had touched them. If the church were on Facebook, Trustee Noel would've reached his friend limit within the first five minutes.
With the check secured in his hands the reverend felt sufficiently rebuked by his own conscience. He did have favor with God. He'd never been in danger of losing his reputation for getting things done in the community, and he held the proof.
He was happy enough to want to plant a kiss on the trustee's cheek. However, in keeping with his macho man image, he shunned that feeling and hugged the trustee, instead.
“Trustee Noel,” the reverend began, “I am in shock! But I'm certainly not surprised. What a mighty God we serve that He would show out like this.” Reverend Tom's arms pulled the trustee closer and they shoulder bumped.
Trustee Noel's physique was not built for chest or shoulder bumping. He could feel the bruise forming on his skin. “Ow. Suh.”
“That's right, praise Him in tongues!” Reverend Tom encouraged. “Give Him glory in tongues!”
Trustee Noel began to shake. The pain of the shoulder bump set off tremors in his body. He knew one thing. He would use some of those millions and join a gym.
When it appeared the Spirit or whatever had finally subsided, Reverend Tom addressed the trustee again. “I know you've got something you'd like to say before I begin to tell you how grateful the entire church and community is because of you.”
Trustee Noel spoke slowly and painfully into the microphone. “Thank you, Pastor. My heart is too full to say a lot more, but this church is my home.”
Reverend Tom accepted the quick words of appreciation, then added a few more of his own. “Crossing Over Sanctuary church cannot thank you enough. I know it must come from somewhere deep in a giving heart for you to give so much.”
The reverend stopped and for reasons only he could explain, he raised the trustee's hand and added slowly, “You have millions of dollars, more than enough money from your insurance award. You've adhered to the principle of sowing and tithing as the nineteenth chapter of Numbers instructs us to do. If this is one-tenth of your insurance award . . .”
Trustee Noel only heard the words
insurance
and
award
. Everything beyond those two words sounded like white noise. He had no idea what the pastor meant, especially since he was still waiting to hear from his attorneys about that particular money issue and the appeals.
insurance
and
award
. Everything beyond those two words sounded like white noise. He had no idea what the pastor meant, especially since he was still waiting to hear from his attorneys about that particular money issue and the appeals.
If the reverend saw the puzzled look upon the trustee's face, he ignored it. He was overjoyed and continued talking. “I am going to recommend that one of the buildings on the Promised Land be named in your honor.”
“Hallelujah! Amen and glory be to God,” Sasha suddenly screamed out. It made no sense to waste a perfectly good opportunity to plant a seed of appreciation in the situation. It might sprout into something useful when she bragged about how supportive she was of the trustee from the beginning. In her mind, she'd already assigned the coat hanging duty to Elder Batty Brick.
Ignoring Sasha's over-the-top outburst, Reverend Tom kept on talking and used every word to increase the trustee's stature within the church. By that time, the reverend realized why he'd delivered the sermon “Time to Make a Change.” Things certainly had changed for the better. He believed God used Trustee Noel as a Bible-based example of obedience and faith. He saw the gift in his hands also proved he was right about having a vision from God. It'd all come right back to him and his stubborn pride.
Reverend Tom stopped and looked toward the ceiling. He smiled, believing he was listening to the Spirit before nodding his head as though he agreed with it. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” the reverend said loudly. “The Blessed Spirit reminded me that we didn't have to rely on shortchanging our salvation by begging the bank for more time. We can look the Devil straight in his evil eye and tell him God provides. None of us had to
gamble
on our faith.”
gamble
on our faith.”
He turned and winked at the trustee as he continued to speak. “Just look at my God in His awesomeness,” the reverend boasted again. “Holy Ghost, lay witness to the truth!”
The microphone in the reverend's hand magically appeared in front of the trustee's lips. Trustee Noel became nervous. His hands started shaking and his lips began to flutter.
Of course, that's when the church and the reverend thought the trustee was about to speak in tongues, again.
Speaking in tongues twice meant no lie could cross the Trustee's lips or he'd drop dead just like Ananias and his lying wife did in the Bible when they lied to the disciple Peter.
Trustee Noel went full into panic mode. He began to sweat. All of his good thoughts about how the reverend wouldn't care where the money truly came from as long as it came, fled. He needed the comfort of twirling that sprig of hair of his, but he couldn't do that, either.
“I thank you Reverend Tom for yo' confidence in me.” Trustee Noel's voice continued to shake as he tried to smile toward the reverend.
It's that bank check,
the reverend thought as he smiled back at the trustee.
That's what has my confidence.
“Continue, Trustee Noel, and tell what saith the Lord,” he said aloud.
the reverend thought as he smiled back at the trustee.
That's what has my confidence.
“Continue, Trustee Noel, and tell what saith the Lord,” he said aloud.
It was then or never if the trustee was to tell the entire truth. “Well, you see, uh . . . Pastor, I didn't get my insurance money yet. I'm the one done hit that big Mega Lottery.”
If the reverend wasn't so caught up in the moment boasting about what God did and the Devil didn't do, he would've stopped the trustee right then. But the reverend's mind and spirit were elsewhere.
The truth was, while his body stayed at the Crossing Over Sanctuary with the rest of the congregation, the reverend's spirit hadn't. It had already hopped in his praise-mobile and stood proudly in line at the bank. In his mind, he saw himself about to hand the teller the check when the trustee's words jerked him back to reality.
The reverend's pride collided with the truth, and he wanted to wring the trustee's neck.
He threw the envelope back in the trustee's shocked face. “God don't need nor does He want your tainted and ill-gotten money!” Without giving a benediction or waiting for the organist to play, the reverend fled the sanctuary.
Embarrassment wasn't new to the trustee. A day didn't go by that someone didn't rain down shame on him. But this was his pastor, his leader, his spiritual advisor, and the man who, only moments before, had patted him on the back. Reverend Tom had called down God's anointing and blessings. And then that same pastor turned around and slapped him with a paper envelope. Trustee Noel couldn't say a word. He stood with egg on his face and twenty-five million dollars in his pocket.
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