Fourteen

Rev. Lionel Inman was more than a pastor to his flock of faithful members; he was also a friend of the community and made himself accessible as much as possible in whatever capacity needed. His ministry wasn’t limited to the pulpit of Living Word Cathedral. He also served as one of the chaplains at Baylor University Medical Center, a mentor in North Texas’s Big Brother/Big Sister program, and visited the prison system often to introduce Christ to those who were incarcerated. Rev. Inman often testified that his life, void of an active father and short on the love and attention that a child needs, was the reason that as a young man he’d turned to a life of fast cars, loose women, and high crimes.

To many outsiders who hadn’t been told his life’s story, the relatively young preacher didn’t seem qualified for the services that he carried out. There wasn’t a noticeable grey strand of hair on his head, and without the Sunday suit and ministerial collar he looked no different than the average man next door. But there was a whole lot more to Lionel Inman than met the eye.

Just a few years ago, the forty-six-year-old preacher had been a leader of a much different kind. Born and raised in California, he’d made a dreadful but successful living selling drugs and women. A “pleasure engineer” is what he said he’d titled his decade-long profession. A ride in the back of a squad car was all the time it took for him to make an about-face. The arresting officer didn’t claim to be a preacher, but he was definitely heaven-sent. Rev. Inman loved to share the story with the members of Living Word Cathedral, and they loved hearing how their pastor’s typical arrest turned into anything but.

In a move that was by all accounts cause for suspicion, the arresting officer pulled the patrol car over to the side of the road two blocks away from the precinct. Rev. Inman said that he’d heard horror stories from many of his friends and even from some of “his women” who’d been picked up for soliciting undercover policemen. He thought he’d have a brutality story of his own when the white officer shut off his flashing lights, got out of the driver’s seat, and climbed into the backseat with him. In a fair struggle, Rev. Inman said he would have had little trouble taking on the man who was at least four inches shorter and twenty-five pounds lighter than he. But with him still bound by handcuffs, the officer had an unfair advantage.

After closing the door, erasing any chance for his prisoner to escape, the officer reached under the front passenger seat. Rev. Inman said he’d tried not to show any signs of fear, but his insides cringed and he braced for the force of the nightstick. Instead, what the policeman pulled from beneath the seat was a weapon of another kind.

“I could get in trouble for this,” the officer told him. “All it would take is for you to report my badge number to my superiors, and none of the years that I’ve served the LAPD and sacrificed my life for the safety of others would mean a thing. I’d be out of a job by morning.”

Rev. Inman said the image of the gold badge with blue writing became a permanent imprint in his mind. He’d already decided that he’d fix this racist white man who dared to try and intimidate him. The numbers 14188 seemed to sparkle from the streetlight that provided the only illumination in the area where the policeman had chosen to park his cruiser. He’ll be sorry he ever cuffed the hands of Lionel Inman, he had reasoned. But it was the officer’s next words that captured the future preacher’s total attention.

“But even though I know you’ll have the power to destroy my life as I know it, I’ve got to do this, because God told me to.”

The man proceeded to write something on the first page of the leather-bound book. Rev. Inman said that he drew back when he saw the officer reach into his pocket afterward.

“Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around,” the officer said again. His voice was calm but authoritative at the same time.

Lionel continued to stare at him in defiance, and when the policeman finally understood the reason for his hesitation he burst into a hearty laugh that made his detainee even more confused.

“God wouldn’t tell me to do that to you, sir,” the officer said. He then held up his right hand and displayed a key. “You’ll have to turn around if you want me to unlock you.”

Rev. Inman said he turned as instructed, but the whole while he was trying to figure out the catch. Was this one of those things like he’d seen in Murder in Mississippi, the movie wherein Blair Underwood played James Chaney, the civil rights activist who was slain by Ku Klux Klan members after he refused to run in fear? Well, this wasn’t 1964, and he wasn’t about to go down without a fight. He turned back around quickly after feeling the metal pull away from his wrist.

“You’re going to be somebody,” the officer said, just as his former captive was about to draw back his fists. “God said you’re going to be a vessel that He’ll use to bring many lost souls to the cross. You’re a preacher in the making. The people of Dallas, Texas, will never be the same once you walk on their soil.”

With that, the man handed Lionel his first Bible. For the longest time, Rev. Inman said, the only thing he could do was to stare at the cover and wonder what on earth was wrong with the man who’d given it to him. He didn’t move again until he heard the doors unlock.

“Go on now,” the officer told him.

Lionel remembered spewing every swearword he could think of at the officer. They didn’t even form a proper sentence, but they were an accurate result of his combination of fear, anger, and confusion. Shaking his head in defiance, Lionel added, “What you trying to pull, fool? I ain’t crazy. You the one who’s crazy. I ain’t ’bout to go down like that. You’re just trying to get me to get out of this car so you can shoot me in the back and say I was trying to escape.”

The officer’s reply was to remove his gun from his hip and empty the bullets on the floor of the squad car. After all of the bullets had fallen at his feet, the man dropped the gun on the floor with them and pointed toward the door behind Lionel.

“Go,” he repeated.

Lionel hesitated, but finally obeyed. His first few moments of freedom, Rev. Inman had told his congregation, were more frightening than the entire episode, including the actual arrest and the time spent confined in the back of the car with the officer. He’d started out walking away from the car, but he’d broken into a sprint when he heard the car door open and close in the distance. That area of Los Angeles was home to Lionel. He ran through alleys and cut through backyards to be sure that the policeman couldn’t trail him. He didn’t stop running until he had reached the gated community where his illegal profession had allowed him to live in luxury. It wasn’t until he was safe behind his latched door that Lionel realized he’d clutched the Bible in his hand the whole way.

To this day, he believed that the officer had been an angel that God had planted out on the street where Lionel had been read his rights. When he finally opened the Bible after four days of being too afraid to even leave his home, Rev. Inman read the inscription for the first time. The officer had written, To: My Servant, Lionel; From: Your Savior, Jesus. Lionel always carried fake identification whenever he was involved in illegal activities. The license that the officer had confiscated from him that night bore the name Elliot Woods. Never had he told him that his real name was Lionel. When the significance of it all settled in, his level of fear heightened. It would be another four days before Lionel would have enough courage to step outside his doors.

Two weeks later, he called the Los Angeles Police Department to ask about the man wearing 14188 on his badge and found out from them that the number didn’t exist. In fear, he’d tried on several occasions to throw the Bible away; but each time he did, an indescribable force would have him retrieve it from the garbage can. Nothing about his life as he’d known it for ten years had been the same after that momentous night. He didn’t feel comfortable in the pimp garb that had gotten him the respect of those within his circle. Within a matter of days he’d destroyed it all, and the women he’d used to achieve his noted status were released from the bondage they weren’t even aware they were in.

Fruitless days and sleepless nights prompted the onset of what would become many hours of reading the pages in the Bible and kneeling tearfully on the floor beside his bed. John 3:16 became the Scripture he read every single day until he finally understood its meaning and asked God to give him the eternal life that was promised in His Word. By the end of the month, without a clue of what he was going to do once he got there, Lionel Inman had packed his belongings and was headed toward Texas.

Looking back, he still couldn’t account for all that had taken place in his past to bring him to his present, but for every unexplainable detail, Rev. Inman had been thankful. Now, as he sat at his desk and sorted through the paperwork in front of him, he made good use of free time that had unexpectedly been presented to him.

Thursdays were by far Rev. Inman’s busiest days at the church. It was the day that he scheduled most of his counseling sessions. He had already completed three of his five scheduled appointments, but the subjects of his fourth one were running late, rewarding him with a few minutes of availability that he was now using to prepare himself for Sunday morning’s sermon. Though he was grateful for the additional study time, Rev. Inman had been looking forward to this meeting with Chris and Lisa. It was their last one, and one that he had hoped would give him the additional confidence he needed to perform their February ceremony without the reluctance that had been nudging at him for the past several weeks.

Rev. Inman’s eyes stared at the pages of his notebook, but his thoughts were far from the words he had jotted on the paper. For quite some time he had been struggling with his lingering doubt about the upcoming vows that would be exchanged between two of his most loyal members. Rev. Inman had avoided bringing it up during sessions because he wouldn’t have a clear answer if either of them asked why he felt that way. As a pastor and counselor, Rev. Inman knew that he had to be careful not to let his personal feelings mingle with the spiritual enlightenment that God gave him. Usually he was good at distinguishing one from the other. This time, however, he wasn’t at all certain.

Christopher Jackson had been a member of Living Word Cathedral longer than Rev. Inman had been pastor. In the thirteen years that he’d served as leader of the congregation, the preacher had seen nothing to cause him to question Chris’s character. Rev. Inman remembered the despair that Chris had endured after the death of his father. He had become distant, and depression had set in. But even in all of that, Chris’s spiritual foundation remained strong. He was a hard worker and a leader in his community. Everyone respected the son that the elder Mr. Jackson left to carry on his legacy. Chris’s strength and loyalty had been tested and tried. Even when his mother and sister uprooted from Dallas and relocated to California to start new lives, Chris stayed behind. His dedication to carrying on his father’s business was nothing less than commendable.

It had been less than three years ago that Lisa walked through the doors of his church for the first time. Rev. Inman remembered her well because her presence demanded attention. When she walked in the door, heads turned. Many men in the church were impressed by her natural beauty, but it was Chris who had won her heart. The two of them made a handsome couple and seemed to get along well. Even during counseling, when they disagreed, there was never any disrespect. Rev. Inman liked that. One of the points he always made during the course of marriage counseling was the importance of regard between a husband and wife. So much about Chris and Lisa seemed to make them the perfect pair, but the pastor still wasn’t convinced. A recent observation had caused his confidence in their bond to weaken.

For the first year of their courtship, Chris and Lisa only had eyes for each other, or so it seemed. But something had changed, and it hadn’t escaped the watchful eyes of Rev. Inman. While there hadn’t been a noticeable change in the way Lisa interacted with her fiancé, there had been a marked difference in the way she interacted with her fiancé’s best friend. Rev. Inman noticed it for the first time four Sundays ago. While he’d been standing in his office, looking out of the window that faced the side parking lot of the church, he’d seen Lisa approach Mitchell Andrews from behind as he bent to load some belongings in the back of his Tundra. For a while, she’d said and did nothing except stand and watch in what looked a lot like lustful admiration.

Rev. Inman’s telephone had rung that day and drawn him away from his watch. By the time he’d returned to the window, the three of them—Mitch, Lisa, and Chris—were standing together talking. Lisa’s arm had a firm grip around Chris’s waist, and all seemed well. Rev. Inman had convinced himself that he’d made more of the sighting than necessary, but since that time, he’d made several more observations of questionable behavior between Lisa and Mitch. He hated the probing question that had him hesitant to officiate at the pending wedding. Today he planned to get the answers he needed in order to clear his spirit.

Rev. Inman looked at his watch and noticed the lateness of the hour just as his telephone rang.

“Rev. Lionel Inman,” he answered.

“Hey, Rev. Inman.”

It was no surprise to him to hear Chris’s voice on the other end of the line. As a matter of fact, Rev. Inman had almost said Chris’s name when he answered. It was extremely rare for him to ever run late for any type of meeting, let alone his premarital counseling sessions. And from the sound of Chris’s hoarse voice, Rev. Inman made the early speculation that he’d have to wait to get the answers to the questions that weighed on his mind.