As we walked into the church that I used to faithfully attend every Sunday that I could, I felt utter disgust. I didn’t want to be there. I was grim as Mrs. Hope introduced me to people she knew, most who commented about seeing me at church before. I didn’t utter a word to her or any of them. I just sat down next to Mrs. Hope and prepared to listen to what no longer meant anything to me: The Word of God.
The choir started singing my favorite song by Yolanda Adams, “Hold On To Your Dreams.” I sat blank-faced, refusing to give in like others around me that were screaming and crying, jumping up and down, and waving their hands in the air looking like fools. I couldn’t believe that I used to be a fool right along with them. There was no God. He was an illusion. I knew that now for sure, and they couldn’t convince me of anything different. My son Jo Jo had been right all along about this so-called God. I was so into my thoughts that I didn’t notice the choir had stopped singing until the pastor, Todd Jones, took the podium with his Bible in hand.
“Let us bow our heads and pray,” he said. Everyone did except for me. My head was upright and my eyes were focused on the ceiling. Maybe I was trying to find this God everyone in there seemed to have so much love for.
“Father, we ask that you bless us in your house today,” the pastor prayed. “Father, we ask that if there is anyone in need of this prayer that they embrace it. Father, we ask if there is anyone that needs your spirit within them, that they open up. Father, we ask that if anyone in here needs the Holy Ghost today, that they receive it.”
“Yes, Lord,” Mrs. Hope said. She gripped my hand so tight I couldn’t pull away from her.
“And finally, Father, we want to let you know that we feel really fortunate to be able to be in your house to praise you. We thank you for giving us food and shelter. We thank you for health, Father God. Amen.”
A ton of Amen’s were said throughout the church. I twisted my lips to the side.
“Now, everyone open your Bibles and turn to the book of Job,” the pastor instructed.
Finally, Mrs. Hope freed my hand so that she could open her Bible.
The pastor took a sip of water before continuing. “Now, people of the church, you know Job. A wealthy man. He was from the land of Uz. But more important than his wealth was his righteousness. He was blameless. He was upright. He was a true servant of God. For his righteousness, he was blessed. He had seven sons and three daughters. He owned 7000 sheep, 300 camels, 500 yoke of oxen, and 500 donkeys. Job had a large number of servants. He was the greatest among all the people of the east. Now, ahhh…” The pastor took off his glasses and stared down at us. “Y’all know what happened to Job?”
“Yes, Pastor,” Mrs. Hope yelled. She smiled at me like being in church filled her with so much delight.
I turned my head.
“Go on, Pastor,” a woman who looked about my age yelled out.
Pastor Jones dried his face with a silk cloth while he talked. “The devil. Now, y’all know Satan got a problem with those serving God.” He put his glasses back on. “Satan wanted to test Job, test Job’s faith in God. So he did. Job lost everything; his wealth, his kids, his health. He had boils all over his body. And when his wife told him to curse God, you know what he said to her?”
I had heard enough. I stood to my feet. “What did he say Pastor? Did he say no, no, no, I’m still going to honor my God even though he took away everything that meant something to me’?” I demanded angrily. I snatched away from a shocked Mrs. Hope who grabbed my arm in an attempt to pull me back down to my seat.”
The pastor smiled at me and said calmly, “Yes, young lady. Job told his wife, ‘You’ve lost your mind. You’re not my wife talking like that. I’m going to serve God regardless.”
There was mumbling in the church when I didn’t sit back down. Instead, I squeezed between people seated next to me and Mrs. Hope so that I could get to the middle of the aisle to confront Pastor Jones. I ignored the shocked faces and the mumbles. I marched towards the pulpit.
“You really expect me to believe that after he lost his flesh and blood?” I beat on my chest. “He was still able to believe in God?” A sob escaped me. “You’ lying, Pastor! You’ lying! The reason how I know you lying is because I am Job. I came in this place on Sundays, and day in and day out I prayed. I remained a faithful servant and got nothing in return. I suffered. My kids suffered. And now I’m supposed to believe in God? If there was a God, I wouldn’t have had to struggle, sell my body and a part of my soul just to put food in my children’s stomachs. If there was a God, He wouldn’t have taken my kids from me.” I looked around at all the shocked and confused faces. My voice got louder. “Don’t y'all get it, or are y'all all a bunch of praising fools? There is no God!”
Someone grabbed my arm. I snatched away and screamed. “No! Listen to me! I lost my flesh and blood! My babies! My life. They were the only reason I got up in the morning. Both of them, Tricie and Jo Jo. So I could give a crap about a God! I don’t have faith in God. I curse God. I hate God! He took my life away from me. I believed in Him. I pulled my kids in with my faith and look how God repaid me!”
I dropped to my knees on the carpet and beat on it with closed fist. I bawled like a baby and tears poured from my eyes. I humped over and continued to cry pitifully as if I was in that moment again, the one where Jo Jo shot Tricie and then turned the gun on himself. I was reliving all that pain yet again. The moment was there clear in my head and I could not do anything to get out of it.
That’s when I heard several feet tapping on the floor around me. Soon I felt crowded. People formed a circle and I was in the center of it.
At first I thought they were going to scoop me up and throw me out of that church. Maybe even put me in jail. I mean, I had caused a big scene there and challenged not only the Pastor, but also God.
But instead of being thrown out of the church, I felt several hands all over me. Their open palms were being laid on my flesh. It had to be at least fifty hands that I felt. And then the Pastor led them all in prayer… for me.