Blessed Trinity. Vanessa Davis Griggs
in the past.” Johnnie Mae took a cluster of grapes out of the refrigerator, washed them, placed them in a glass bowl, and set them on the table. Plucking off a few, she offered them to Landris. “This won’t take but a minute. I promise. Then you can get back to Reverend Knight and whatever else.”
“Go ahead,” Pastor Landris said as he popped a big, black, seedless grape into his mouth.
“Where did evil come from?”
Pastor Landris thought for a minute. “I know you’re expecting me to say, from Satan.”
“If I get an answer, that’s usually the answer I get.” Johnnie Mae pulled a grape off the stem and took a bite. “According to what we were just saying, there was a tree in the Garden of Eden called The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. God put it there. My question is: Where did evil come from for there to even be the knowledge of it? We know Satan was once a top angel—beautiful, with jewels and the most melodious singing voice ever created.”
“So you’re saying Satan was the choir director?” Pastor Landris teased.
“Don’t even go there,” Johnnie Mae said, knowing full well the battle Pastor Landris had fought in the past with the choir director at Wings of Grace Faith Ministry Church. The choir director wanted to sing every song that came out as gospel, and Pastor Landris didn’t believe some songs—old or new—fulfilled the requirements of gospel. Some were downright depressing, playing mostly to emotions, and Pastor Landris just wasn’t having those under his pastoral leadership. If a song didn’t have a true gospel message, Pastor Landris refused to promote it at all.
“Okay, Johnnie Mae, back to your question.” He knew his wife was only trying to keep his mind off what Reverend Knight had done by asking these questions, at least until he’d calmed down a little more. “Satan decided he wanted to revolt against God and ended up getting himself and one-third of the angels thrown out of heaven. That’s described, using Lucifer as the name, in Isaiah 14:12–14.”
The phone rang. Johnnie Mae got up and checked the caller ID. Pastor Landris continued. “Now I don’t exactly know how you’re going to receive this but…” He saw Johnnie Mae frown.
“This is Reverend Knight,” she said, almost in a whisper as though Reverend Knight could actually hear her.
He waved the call away. “Let it go to voice mail.”
“Landris, that’s not right.” As much as she wanted to divert his attention from Reverend Knight, she knew it was wrong for him not to answer the call.
“What’s not right? I really don’t want to talk to him.” The phone rang a fourth time. It would automatically go to voice mail after the sixth ring.
“Hello,” Johnnie Mae said, catching it on the fifth ring. “Yes, hold on.” Johnnie Mae pressed the Mute button and walked the cordless phone over to her husband.
“I don’t want to talk to him,” Pastor Landris said, having seen her press the button to mute their conversation. “What can he say to me at this point? I don’t trust him, Johnnie Mae.”
“Talk to him anyway. See what he wants. You’ve not talked with him since that building was taken off the market. Landris, you know what’s the right thing to do here,” Johnnie Mae said. “Be ye holy, Pastor. You know what’s right.”
“Yeah, I know. But knowing doesn’t always make it easy—even for preachers.” He took the phone.
“Pastor Landris speaking.”
Johnnie Mae turned off the toaster oven, took out the crab cakes, put them on the plate Pastor Landris had taken out, and placed them in front of him. She walked out of the room, praying this conversation would settle some things for her husband so he would be able to do what he needed to do.
If nothing else, he needed peace about this in his own heart.
Chapter 6
I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.
(Psalm 37:25)
“Pastor Landris, this is Reverend Knight. How are you?”
“Wonderful. And yourself?”
“Making it, or as my congregation loves saying every Sunday, ‘Blessed of the Lord and highly favored!’” He cleared his throat, loudly in Pastor Landris’s ear.
Pastor Landris pulled the phone away and looked at it while shaking his head in disbelief at the man’s rudeness.
Reverend Knight continued. “I’m sure you’re wondering what has prompted my call.”
“It crossed my mind.”
“Well, I was wondering if I might be able to interest you in lunch—on me, of course.”
“And what would be the occasion? Celebrating my losing out on securing a building I was trying to get, maybe?”
“Oh, I can see you don’t pull any punches. I like that in a man, and even more so in a preacher. You know, we’ve gotten so sanctimonious these days, we don’t always say what’s on our minds. That only leads to unnecessary speculation.” Reverend Knight cleared his throat again. “Forgive me for the noise in my throat. I’ve almost used it up preaching for the Lord. You know, that’s the way I want to go out,” he said, as though he was preaching a sermon and coming to the close. He paused a second. “Listen, Doc, I want to get together with you. Lunch, dinner, whatever you want. I just need to have a real sit-down talk with you. I have an offer I’d like to propose, and I don’t care to discuss it over the phone. So what do you say?”
“If I said I wasn’t interested—”
“At least sit down with me and hear what I have to say. If you’re not interested, then you’re the kind of man who will flat-out tell me. But only a fool will turn down something without knowing what he’s turning down.”
Pastor Landris only heard the word “fool,” and that didn’t sit too well. “What if I want to think about it first?”
“Think about what? I’m asking you out to eat and talk—I’m not proposing marriage. Besides, you’re not my type!” Reverend Knight laughed out loud at his own joke.
Pastor Landris was silent.
“Come on, Doc. Let’s you and me sit down and break bread together. You and me. We can talk and get to know each other better. Who knows, you might find I have something you’re interested in. How’s noon tomorrow looking for you?”
Pastor Landris already knew the whole day was open for him. “Let me get back to you,” he said.
“Sure, sure. Talk it over with the missus and get her okay.” Reverend Knight laughed again. “From more than forty-eight years of marital experience, believe me, you don’t want to mess up there.”
Pastor Landris decided not to even dignify that with a comment. “What’s your phone number?”
Reverend Knight gave him his number. “I look forward to hearing from you shortly,” he said. “Now don’t keep me waiting too long. You wouldn’t want the cloud to move without you.”
They hung up. Pastor Landris stared at the phone before placing it back in its base.
He went to find Johnnie Mae. She was in the den folding towels. A woman named Ms. Bertha came three times a week to clean the house, but Johnnie Mae enjoyed folding towels fresh out of the dryer so much, she did that task herself.
“He wants to have lunch tomorrow,” Pastor Landris said, watching Johnnie Mae smooth out and line up the plush, combed-cotton towel before triple-folding it.
“Wear something a little more casual than usual.”
“Who said I was going?”
“You. He wants to