Sex In The Sanctuary. Lutishia Lovely
King congratulated Derrick again on his church’s mass choir CD debut, Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center Sings Thy Kingdom Come! Derrick reiterated his continued support for the Total Truth Association, an organization of Baptist, Methodist and other churches who’d broken away from their more traditional organizational umbrellas to embrace practices not recognized in their denominations, like miracle healing and speaking in tongues. King told Derrick about the Angels of Hope, and Derrick told King about the Kingdom Kick Boxers, a martial arts program for the church’s young men. Finally King looked at his watch, then at the pad, and realized he needed to get back to work. He’d had a sermon prepared, but as so often happened, God had another one in mind.
“Take care, bro’, I’m praying for you,” Derrick said to his brother, whose pain resonated through the telephone.
“Me too, Dee, me too.” King hung up the phone and pushed the half-eaten fish dinner aside. He crossed his arms on the desk, put his head down on top of them and started silently praying in tongues. He had been praying for about thirty minutes, had started feeling his spiritual and physical strength return, when the phone rang. The red private call light lit up. King raised his head, looked at the caller ID. Slowly, resolutely, he picked up the receiver. His “spiritual thing” was on the line.
Blessed
“Daddy!” Elisia’s high-pitched voice rang out cheerfully as she knocked on the door. “Daddy, Mama says to tell you dinner’s ready.”
“Come in, honey bunch,” Derrick replied, smiling as his angel bounded through the door and into his lap. He kissed her cheek and playfully tugged at one of her long hair twists as she beamed appreciatively. She studied her father’s profile thoughtfully for a few minutes, outlining his eyebrows with her finger, and then crossing his forehead and continuing down his nose to his mouth, where Derrick playfully bit her finger and held it tightly between his lips for a moment before releasing it.
“Mama’s got a surprise for you,” Elisia whispered as she continued to trace her father’s definitive features, over his cheekbones and around his ear.
“What’s that?” he whispered back conspiratorially.
“Daddy,” Elisia chided somberly. “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.” With that, she jumped down off his lap and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, little one.”
“What’s wrong?” Elisia questioned as she paused by the door. Derrick had again leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn’t know she was still there.
“Nothing for you to worry about, baby.” Derrick’s conversation with King was still weighing heavily on his heart. He knew King and Tai had had their share of problems, but he also knew there was a lot of love in that marriage, and the last few years, he thought, had been especially good all the way around. King’s ministry was flourishing—he’d just been elected President of the Total Truth Association, Mount Zion had completed a major church renovation and expansion and Tai had been by his side all the way, encouraging, nurturing, taking care of him and the family. Tai had always been a quiet first lady, a silent but undeniable main thread in the fabric of King’s life and ministry. She’d never been out front, singing or teaching as was the role of many pastors’ wives. She preferred, even enjoyed, staying in the background. Her forte was in the area of organizing and overseeing, creating and delegating. Her priority and focus had been King from the time she was sixteen years old and then he and the babies as they came along. Most people wouldn’t have guessed it if they just looked at outward appearances, but Tai’s love was the foundation upon which King’s success had been built.
Derrick leaned forward, suddenly aware that Elisia was still at the door, watching him silently. He offered a small smile as he got up to join her. They headed down the hall hand in hand.
“Daddy,” Elisia said quietly as they neared the bottom step before entering the downstairs area and crossing through the living room to the dining room. She’d stopped and was now looking up at her father seriously with big, clear brown eyes.
“Whatever it is, God can fix it. He can fix anything.”
Derrick swallowed as his heart swelled and eyes misted at the perceptive words of his little girl. And a little child shall lead, he thought, smiling. “You’re absolutely, right honey bunch,” Derrick replied as he entered the dining room now overflowing with people, food and conversation. Because if God couldn’t fix it—nobody could.
Sundays were a celebration at the Montgomery residence, and this Sunday was no exception. The table was set beautifully with fine bone china and Waterford crystal. A floral arrangement of calla lilies provided an eye-catching centerpiece.
A large platter of blackened red snapper lay on one side of the lilies, an equally large platter of baked lemon chicken on the other. Surrounding these meat choices was an array of vegetables including corn, spinach and summer squash, a large bowl of mashed potatoes with sprigs of fresh parsley and dashes of paprika for color, a pan of Vivian’s famous dressing made with apples and olives and a bowl heaped with a variety of rolls. On the buffet behind the large dining room table was another Vivian dinner staple, a salad bar. Also on the buffet were a variety of sodas and a pitcher of tea. Lastly there was Derrick’s surprise, his favorite dessert besides Vivian, sweet potato pie.
The classical music in the background could hardly be heard amid the din of voices. There was Mother Faye Moseley, a pillar at Kingdom Citizens’ and Vivian’s play mother who practically lived at the house, and her husband, Brother Clyde. This couple, married for forty years, had been one of the mentors of the Montgomery marriage, and at times Vivian wondered if it would have lasted without them. Other Kingdom Citizens’ members around the table included Darius Crenshaw, the minister of music, and his sister Tanya, who worked with the youth ministry. Next to Tanya was Stacy, a good friend and fellow worker in the youth ministry. Stacy dreamed of changing her title from “friend” of Tanya’s to “sister-in-law.” Her sly yet seductive glances to Darius throughout the meal underlined this fact. Rounding out the dinner guests was Cy (not only pronounced “sigh” but evoking many) Taylor, Derrick’s associate minister, confidant and friend.
Cy was a bit of a phenomenon at Kingdom Citizens’ for many reasons. First, he was one of the most intelligent men Derrick had ever met, having graduated summa cum laude from Howard University with a degree in Business Administration. He’d received his master’s in Organizational Leadership from Biola University and had been an irreplaceable asset to Derrick and the ministry since joining the team full-time, three years ago. Secondly, he was a man of integrity—gracious, unpretentious and humble. He was one of those rare breeds of men unafraid to show his emotions. People felt special around Cy.
Then there was his outward appearance. Cy Taylor was one of the finest men God ever created. When God stepped back and said “it is good,” his eye had rested on Cy. At six-two, with bedroom eyes, cupid-shaped lips and a dimple, Cy wasn’t just handsome; he was fine. Or as Stacy said it, “faeye’een,” figuring that one syllable just wasn’t enough.
Cy was wealthy. He’d made his money as a financial advisor for a large investment company and, following his own advice and intuition, had invested heavily in the computer and Internet markets when both were in their infancy. When he sold his Internet stock several years later, he was a millionaire many times over. That was when he decided to leave the business world and assist Derrick and Kingdom Citizens’ full-time. He was adored, admired and envied by men and women alike. He was God’s man, single and celibate.
Derrick blessed the food, and everyone filled their plates. Mother Moseley had taken only a few bites before starting a litany of anecdotes from her Sunday service observations.
“Lawd a’mercy,” she said, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “It’s just pitiful how these women keep throwing themselves at the man, just pi-ti-ful!” She looked at Cy and shook her head.
Cy knew what was coming. Although he would have preferred to not be the topic, he couldn’t help but laugh at the comical and accurate way she told a story.