The Veil (14 page)

“Chile, we all got to die. I feel a whole lot betta if you and yo' mama got along.”

Misha scraped the last bite of food off her plate and forked it into her mouth. Her grandmother was right. It was time to call a truce with her mother. She had to forget all the things that was done and said in the past. Life was fragile and too short to hold a grudge.

Sunday arrived and Misha woke up early to pray. She had never been to the Remnant Church before and she was looking forward to going. Although she had never attended the church, she felt an urgent need to go after seeing the pastor on television.

She wanted to make sure her hair and clothes were well presentable. The Remnant Church was known for its classic style. She unwrapped her hair and tried on several outfits before deciding on a navy blue pants suit. She wanted some bacon and eggs, but she ate cereal. She didn't want to go to a new church smelling like bacon.

She got into her car, reviewed her directions again, and started her journey to the church. When she got there, she could see people dressed in bright orange vests standing in the road, directing traffic. She followed their directions and pulled into a parking space. As she got out of her car, she could see people of many different races going into the large auditorium-styled church. Several people rushed past her without speaking. One lady almost knocked her over and did not apologize. However, Misha did not think much of it. She wanted to believe the lady was anxious to get into the presence of God.

Misha walked into the sanctuary and noticed how chaotic the atmosphere was. Some people were laughing and talking loudly to other people. Some people were crying and praying. There were some people in bright pink leotards and net skirts, running around, waving flags. There were others dressed in black, running around with electrical cords trailing behind them and carrying large video cameras. There was even a guy running around with a Jewish prayer cloth wrapped around his head. The music was so loud Misha could hardly hear herself think and service had not even started.

She searched for a seat. When she sat down, an usher rudely asked her to move. She moved to another seat and a woman sat down beside her. The lady set her large bag and purse down in the seat between them. She began to yell at someone on another aisle. Then she began searching wildly through her bag. Misha wanted to move again, but service was beginning. The woman was too weird with her bright red hair that was as chaotic as the church and the constant mumbling she was doing.

A slim white man with spiked, bleached hair walked onto the podium and began screaming in the microphone. “Praise God. This is a church on fiyah this morning. Praise Him. Praise Him. Praise Him.” He began waving his arms in the air as people ran to their seats.

A group of singers walked onto the stage, holding microphones in their hands. Another man stepped out onto the podium with a large shofar and began blowing into the ram's horn. Misha placed her fingers in her ears because it sounded like large explosions. Three large screens, positioned at the front of the church, showed pictures of fireworks displays. Then the music started. It was louder than the music when she came in. The lights were dimmed and the people in the sanctuary began jumping up and down, screaming and clapping their hands.

The loud music was beginning to give Misha a headache. She picked up her Bible and purse and move toward the back of the church. She found a spot in the back of the first level that seemed much calmer. There were not many people there. From this viewpoint she could see people dancing in the aisle, both white and black. But, this was not a dance she was used to seeing. There was an influx of dancers with flags running up and down the aisle. The voices of the singers sounded like birds fighting. She prayed to herself that she receive what God had sent her there for and that she's wasn't self-righteous or judgmental as she watched the whole scene.

The pastor of the church stood to give his remarks and it seemed as if the people were over-exaggerating their laughter. The whole scene looked so choreographed to Misha. She felt very uncomfortable as she listened to the pastor. She had heard that same sermon somewhere. As she continued to listen to him, she realized it was Shante Patrick's sermon. She listened as this white man stood on the stage, talking about growing up in a church that sounded like a black church. He was even trying to imitate black deacons and black preachers.

Misha looked around the sanctuary at the people of different races standing up, laughing at what the preacher was saying. How in the world could these black people listen to this message? It seemed so racist to her. Then when the preacher told a joke about a girl name Shequana winning a “frigerator” on
The Price Is Right
and pretended to act like her, Misha was fed up. She stood to leave but she heard,
stay,
in her spirit. She sat back down and anxiously waited for the service to end.

Misha continued watching the service as people began walking, some running, toward the altar and throwing money at the altar.

The people running and throwing money on the altar were distractions to Misha. She was puzzled. Why were they doing this? Didn't they put their offering in the baskets when the ushers passed them down the aisle? She was no longer able to focus on the message the pastor was preaching.

The pastor gestured to the musicians. They began playing a fast, upbeat praise song. The congregation began their frenzy all over. The pastor then said something that didn't sit right in her spirit.

“Look over at your neighbor and do a hallelujah check. If they don't say hallelujah and not up praising God, then you need to get up and move. Tell them, ‘I don't want to sit beside you. I want to be by people who are on fire for God.'”

A woman grabbed Misha's arms and tried to pull them in the air. Misha shook her arms away from the lady. She tried to get them again. “Don't put your hands on me,” Misha said. She looked intently at the woman.

The lady began mumbling or speaking in tongues, Misha did not know which. The lady tried to rebuke Misha.

Misha picked up her purse to leave. Before she could step out into the aisle she heard it again.

She sat down and continued watching the service. “God, why am I here?” Her head was still pounding from the loud music.

Once again the pastor gestured to the musicians and the music slowed. Large groups of people stood and ran to the altar. Several very large men with earpieces in their ears jumped up and surrounded the pastor. They looked like bodyguards. They blocked people from reaching the pastor as he continued speaking. A group of people fell to the floor and began rolling around. Others fell on their knees and cried loudly. Some just stood in front of the men with their hands outstretched.

The pastor walked up to a man and laid his hands on his head and immediately the man fell backward. He was caught by a collection of the ear-plugged men and gently laid on the floor. This continued one by one until several people were lying motionless on the floor.

Misha stood when the people on the floor began convulsing as if they were having seizures. What in the world was going on?

Finally, the service ended and Misha rushed to her car. Something about that place was making her sick. It did not feel right in her spirit. There was a strange smell in the air, almost like the pungent smell of sulfur. Delighted when she reached the door, Misha kicked up her pace to her car.

She reached her car, got in, and closed the door. She took deep breaths as if it were the first burst of fresh air she had all day. Her ears were ringing from the extra loud speakers in the church. Her head felt like someone had a hammer banging on it from the inside out. She got into the long line of cars exiting the parking lot.

“God, why did you want me to come here?” Misha prayed out loud in her car as she waited her turn to exit the parking lot.

“What?” Misha responded to the voice in her spirit.

Misha felt like a freed slave when her car exited the parking lot of the church. She didn't want to ever go back to that church again.

 

 

That night, alone in her apartment, as she began to pray, Misha felt a coolness come over her. She began to worship. She lay stretched out on her floor as she felt the calmness engulf her body. Then, suddenly, a scripture came into her spirit: Revelation 3:1–3. She stood up and opened her Bible to the scripture and began to read.

Misha read the scripture again. “God give me understanding,” she prayed.

She began to talk to the Lord as if He were there in person in her apartment. “God, is this you? How can I go to that pastor? I saw how many bodyguards they had around him today. Even the people in the church could not get to him. How can I and he doesn't even know me?”

Go to the Remnant Church and tell them thus saith the Lord
.

Misha was nervous. How was she going to get those people to listen to her? In a church like that, how was she going to be able to talk with the pastor?

The next day, she attempted to call the Remnant church to schedule an appointment with the pastor but was told he did not counsel congregants or set appointments with people he did not know. Yet, she was still being tormented by the voice in her spirit telling her to return to the church.

She tried to continue her week as normal. When she accidentally ran into Roger, she acted as if she didn't see him, and looked for the nearest escape. She was glad for the weekend. She tried to relax. But she felt more pressure on her to go to the Remnant Church. On Saturday night, she could not sleep. She awakened suddenly from her sleep.

She tried to get back to sleep. However, fear raced into her room and into her body. She began to tremble. “God, they don't know me.”

Misha didn't sleep anymore that night. Sunday morning she got dressed and drove to the Remnant Church. She sat in her car, watching people walk into the church. She prayed to herself and slowly walked into the church. The same thing was going on as last Sunday. She sat down in a seat near the front as she felt led by the Holy Spirit.

The service continued as usual. However, this time, the pastor said he felt like someone had a testimony.

Misha hesitated but raised her hand. People started clapping and jumping up and down as the pastor walked up to her. She nervously took the microphone. She began to speak.

“I attended your service last week.” Her voice trembled. “That night as I began to pray, the Spirit of the Lord came upon me and this is what He said.” She began to tell them everything the Lord had said.

When she finished, the sanctuary was quiet. She looked at the pastor, who looked like he was totally disgusted with her. His face was blanketed in white as if all the blood had rushed from his body.

“I rebuke you, you ungodly witch,” he said to her.

The congregation followed his lead. At the pastor's urging, they began speaking in tongues and trying to cast out the devil in her. He asked the bodyguards to escort her out of the church. Two large men took her by her arms and walked her to a room at the side of the sanctuary. They shoved her onto a small chair and began yelling at her as if she were a criminal. Then, they snatched her purse from her. Misha jumped out of the chair with her arms stretched, trying to get her purse back. Another guy grabbed her around the waist and pushed her back into the chair.

“We've seen psychos like you here before. You can't curse us. We have divine order. Our pastor is a saint and chosen by God.”

Misha could only watch as a man rummaged through her purse, pulling out her wallet. He took out her driver's license and placed it on a copier. He wrote something on the copy of her license. Then, he tossed it back into her purse and gave it back to her.

The man tapped the earpiece in his ear. He turned. Misha could hear him talking but could not understand what he was saying. The man grabbed her under her arm and pulled her up. Three other men surrounded her. They quickly began walking her toward the vestibule of the church. Misha could hear the chaotic sounds coming from the sanctuary: service as usual. The men escorted her to the front door.

“Where is your car?” the front man asked.

Misha pointed to the right and the five of them began walking until Misha spotted her car. Before the man released his grip, another man took out a pen and wrote her tag number on a pad he held in his hands.

Misha felt totally humiliated and violated as she left the parking lot.

This didn't comfort her. She wanted to get home and take a shower. She had to get the residue of the Remnant Church off her body. She felt so dirty, as if she had been raped. She did not understand what happened that day. She knew she heard the voice of the Lord speaking to her. Doubt welled in her. Did she do the right thing by speaking up during service? Should she have waited until after service to try to speak with the pastor? She was embarrassed. Was there anyone she knew there to witness her being thrown out of the church? What would people say? All kinds of doubt ran through her mind.