43 
We turned on the TV and radio. It was all over the Chicago area news. Two men, identified only as members of the Coalition for White Pride and Preservation, had been arrested during the night. Names had not yet been released. The informant was in police protective custody.
Our phone started ringing. Had we heard the news? Yes, yes, praise God for His justice! Everyone had questions. Who was the informant? Why did she decide to turn them in? Who got arrested? Was it any of the White Pride people we’d seen at the rally? Or had they just sent a couple of thugs to do their dirty work? Nobody had answers.
Pray for the girl, Jodi. Keep praying! Put a hedge of protection around her!
Somehow, in the midst of all the excitement, we got ourselves into the minivan and drove to the mall on Howard Street. The large, unfinished storefront with its butcher-paper sign declaring FUTURE HOME OF NEW MORNING CHRISTIAN CHURCH was filling with people. We parked in the mall parking lot and joined the stream of people moving slowly through the double-glass doors. I saw what the hangup was: Pastor Clark, Pastor Cobbs, and Mrs. Cobbs all stood just inside, greeting people with handshakes and hugs. Pastor Clark was introducing Uptown folks to the Cobbs, and vice versa. I couldn’t help but smile. Pastor Clark, tall and gangly, and Pastor Cobbs, shorter, dignified, looked a bit like a fudge ripple version of the old comic-strip characters Mutt and Jeff. Bless them, Father. Bless them!
“Yes, yes, we have met the Baxters.” Pastor Cobbs smiled warmly and shook our hands. Rose Cobbs enveloped me in a warm hug. She smelled like lavender. “Bless you, my sister,” she whispered in my ear. For some reason, her greeting brought tears to my eyes.
Denny nudged me playfully as we moved further inside. “We ought to feel right at home. Look. Uptown’s sorry chairs.”
Sure enough, Uptown’s poor excuse for folding chairs were all mixed in with newer-looking chairs that had Ric’s Party Rentals stamped on the back. I rolled my eyes. Stu better get her chair fund kicking—soon.
As people found seats, my heart swelled to see the Hickman family come in—even Chris, though he certainly was playing up the “gangsta” fashion to the max: baggy jeans ten sizes too big barely hanging on his butt, oversize shirt, gold chains, sullen expression. Oh God, protect that boy. Let something be said today that touches his heart. Carl had Carla by the hand, dressed in a summery knit shift and sandals and looking older than her nine years.
Avis waved at us from the coffee table, but Peter was busy greeting everyone who came within hailing distance. Oh God, is Peter’s dream possible? Could these two churches merge and become one? I shook my head. That definitely fell in the category King David must have been talking about in Psalm 131: “I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have stilled and quieted my soul . . .”
Yes. I needed to leave that one in God’s lap. Today, I was just going to enjoy this extraordinary joint thanksgiving service with New Morning.
The praise band and worship team took their places against the unpainted wall facing the chairs, a fruit salad of Uptown and New Morning musicians. Microphone wires snaked to a soundboard off to the side. I wondered if Nony and the boys would come this morning, but I hadn’t seen her yet. Stu, Becky, and Andy came in and found seats just as Pastor Cobbs tapped on the central microphone. “Are we on? . . . Good.”
A black metal music stand substituted for a pulpit. Pastor Cobbs took the mic out of its stand and cried out, “This is the day the Lord has made! Let us rejoice and be glad in it!” The New Morning keyboardist punched a couple of loud chords to accompany the chorus of “amens” and “hallelujahs” around the room.
“Praise God! Praise God!” Pastor Cobbs walked back and forth at the front of the room. “We are delighted today to welcome Pastor Clark and our brothers and sisters from Uptown Community Church, who have been our gracious hosts this past month. And as you can see . . .” He grinned, waving his free hand at all the unfinished walls and heating ducts overhead. “You’ll probably have to put up with us for a while longer until we get some more work done here.” People laughed appreciatively. No mention of merging, I noticed.
Leave it in My lap, Jodi.
Pastor Cobbs picked up his Bible from the music stand. “Most of you have probably heard the news this morning—”
Spontaneous clapping and shouting went up all over the room, drowning out whatever he had planned to say next. When it finally died down, Pastor Cobbs said, “But we’re not here to talk about what the newspapers are saying or the sound bites on TV.” He held his Bible aloft. “We’re here to talk about what the Word of God says about all this!”
Drums and electric keyboard joined the clapping and shouting this time. But Pastor Cobbs held up his hand to quiet things down. “Let me read our text for today, second book of Kings, chapter six, talking here about the king of Aram who wanted the head of the prophet Elisha.”
New Morning’s pastor had a surprisingly dramatic voice as he read: “Therefore . . . they came by night and surrounded the city. And when the servant of the man of God arose early and went out, there was an army, surrounding the city with horses and chariots. And his servant said to Elisha, ‘Alas, my master! What shall we do?’ So he answered, ‘Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.’ And Elisha prayed, and said, ‘LORD, I pray, open his eyes that he may see.’ Then the LORD opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw. And behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.”
Pastor Cobbs’s eyes sparked with triumph. “Open your eyes, brothers and sisters! Do not fear! For those who are with us are more than those who are with them! I’m not talking about the police. I’m not talking about the U.S. Army. I’m talking about God’s army that is fighting for us! That has been fighting for our brother Mark Smith even as he lay comatose on that hospital bed! That has been battling this hate group! That is fighting for our families! Fighting for our young people! Fighting Satan’s schemes to keep people of faith separated and suspicious of one another!”
Pastor Cobbs once more held his Bible aloft. “And what are the weapons we possess to fight alongside heaven’s armies?”
By this time, most of us were on our feet. “The Word of God!” several shouted. “Prayer and praise!” “The name of Jesus!”
Pastor Cobbs lifted his hand as if to signal the praise team to begin—and stopped with his hand in the air. His lips parted; his eyes widened. He was looking out the windows that ran along the front of the spacious room. Heads began to turn. What was he looking at? I craned my neck, trying to see past Denny’s big shoulders.
A Medicar had pulled up right in front of the doors of New Morning’s new space. Its side doors were open. A technician lowered a wheelchair on an electric ramp. A woman stood with her back to us, wearing a flowing caftan with gold braid around the neck and sleeves. Two boys in suits and ties ran up to her as she took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed it toward the door.
My heart nearly stopped. Nony! And Mark!
People scrambled to open the doors. Nonyameko pushed the wheelchair into the room. Mark sat in the chair, dressed in slacks and an open-necked shirt. Bandages still wrapped his head and covered one eye. Scars still raked one side of his face. But there was no disguising the broad smile on his face.
People all around the room broke into applause. “Thank You, Jesus!” “Glory!” rang out from all corners. I could barely see for the tears in my eyes. Pastor Cobbs must have recovered and signaled the praise band and worship team, because the room filled suddenly with a Sion Alford song:
My God is a great big God!
My Lord is a mighty Lord! . . .
He’s my help in the time of need!
I let the words roll over me and fill me up. I caught Nony’s eye where she stood beside Mark’s wheelchair in the midst of our two churches, worshiping together. She winked at me and mouthed, “Watch out, devil!” And we both started to laugh as the musicians led into the bridge of the song:
I don’t care what the devil may do
I’m gonna praise the Lord!