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“Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple, says the Lord in the book of Luke.” My deep voice echoed through the sanctuary, hitting every wall, window, and pew.
I looked out over the crowd of people gathered before me. I kept my face steady, but my eyes reached the pews in the back of the church. A couple of people were peppered here and there but not many. We had a couple of rows that were just plain empty. It was a sight that hurt my heart. Attendance was less than the Sunday before, and it looked like it was dropping every week.
I surveyed the faces of my remaining parishioners. I was proud to at least still have them. We weren’t a small congregation but smaller than we were before. With baited breath, each of them was waiting on me to continue preaching. I couldn’t blame them. I wasn’t cocky, but preaching was one thing I knew how to do for sure, that and something else.
I looked into the eyes of the people seated in front of me; many of them I knew on a first name basis. As their pastor, it was my job to not only know them but to understand them and their problems. I didn’t like to be in people’s business like that but people felt they could bring things to me, and I couldn’t turn any of them away. I guess that’s why I had a hard time telling other people how I felt; I wasn’t used to it.
I used the towel in my hand to dab at my forehead. Sweat was pouring down off my brow, but I didn’t care too much. I was hitting my stride for the day and didn’t want to break the mood, at least not until it was time.
“We each have our own crosses to bear,” I went on, “and in knowing this, we take refuge. The Lord speaks of sacrifice in the bible, and it’s been that spirit that’s been on my heart. I’ve prayed over it for a few weeks now, and I have a request of you all.” I paused again. It was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop.
I wasn’t lying to them either. For the last few weeks, I’d been debating about whether or not to share this with the full congregation. The church board already knew about it and so did a couple of the key church members, but I was about to be as transparent as I’d ever been in my entire time as pastor, and that had been almost 20 years.
It wasn’t like me to be so dramatic or secretive, but this time around I needed to be. The church was in much worse condition than a lot of people knew. The board of directors made it clear to me; I either needed to find a way to bring up the attendance rate or else the church would have to close its doors. The cost of keeping it open wasn’t matching up with the money we were bringing in. I knew that I had a personal stake in the church, outside of being the leader of it.
New Greater Hope Baptist Church used to be the shining star of Atlanta. We were a tourist attraction with our large building, boasting a community center and offices underneath. Up until a year ago, the church was flourishing, but now we were struggling to pay our bills on a month to month basis, not to mention keeping payroll afloat.
“A year ago, the church faced its greatest scandal yet,” I said. I held the microphone in my hand as I leaned over the pulpit to watch the effect which my words carried.
A whisper broke out. The incident that happened was more than an elephant in the room; it was the biggest thing to hit our church and was the source of our problems. People leaned over and held up their hands to one another as they gossiped. I’m sure they were shocked that I was talking about it since I was always saying that we should just put it behind us.
“And in facing that scandal,” I went on, raising my voice a little to try and stop the murmurs, “we have come out stronger than we were before. This church has proved that though we can be strong when we are apart, we are much stronger when we are together.”
“Amen!” someone in the crowd yelled.
“Tell the truth!” came a male voice from the back. A couple of people clapped their hands together.
Almost a year ago, the church faced a scandal like it had never seen. Deaconess Melissa Wright, the wife of one of the former key members of the congregation, divorced her husband and ran away with Morris Bell, one of our church members who had to be at least 15 years younger than her.
The affair spread like wildfire and went beyond church gossip. I tried as best I could to keep people from talking about it, but it was just too juicy for them not to. I had my own vices and gossip wasn’t one of them, but even I found myself in a couple of conversations about it with people that I was close with. When it all was said and done, Darnell Wright, Melissa’s ex-husband, ended up killing himself. He left a note and made sure to say that he loved the church and the people in it, but he was dealing with too much. Although he said nothing but good things about the church, it left a bad taste in people’s mouths. The people who had the most mouth started to slowly trickle out soon after. They felt there was blame all around: me for not stopping the gossip, the congregation for gossiping and not acting like good Christians, and more than that. I tried as hard as I could to stop them from going, but I couldn’t.
“And in being stronger together, we must realize the power that we have,” I said. I was feeling kind of nervous about what I was saying, but I knew it needed to be said. They couldn’t keep coming to church every week and thinking things were fine the way that they were. “The church is in danger, and I’m asking for your help to save it.”
I stopped pacing across the stage and held the mic in my hand, looking out over the sea of people. I wanted them to see exactly how serious I was. A couple of people that I usually confided in looked shocked. A few of them looked a little annoyed, probably mad that I hadn’t said anything to them beforehand. People prided themselves on being in the know.
Another round of whispers had broken out, but I held up my hands to stop it.
“Calm down, calm down,” I said. “Listen up, and we can get through this.” I paused until all the side conversations had ceased. I needed their full and undivided attention, because what I had to say was very important. Once I had it, I spoke again.
“We did come out on top of that scandal, but we’re not out of the woods. Don’t think my ears don’t hear the whispers. We can all look around and see the empty seats,” I said. I held up my hands to point to some of the vacant spaces. I loved them dearly, but church people knew they could be full of it sometimes. A few of them looked around the church at the empty spots like they were only just noticing them.
“I’ve been your pastor for a long time, and I’ve always tried to meet my problems and those of the church head on. I don’t want you all to worry, but I want you to know that the situation is serious. We are having real problems paying our bills, and if we don’t do something soon, we’re gonna lose the building,” I explained.
This time there were no whispers. It was a straight uproar of people speaking at the same time. I could hear all the different voices and all the things they were saying. People were scared and anxious. The church was old and had been a home for people for a long time. No one wanted to lose it. I turned my head and looked at my wife. She just nodded at me, indicating she wanted me to continue.
I turned back to the crowd. “I need your attention!” I said firmly. I didn’t yell, but I got louder than before. A couple of people kept talking after, but once they saw the look on my face, they got quiet. “Now, as I said, the church is going through a lot, but we can make it through. I know a lot of you are probably thinking that I’m about to ask for money,” I paused and chuckled a little bit in an effort to try and lighten the mood that my words had caused. “The collection plates will go around every Sunday like normal, but I need something else from you all. I need your commitment.”
My eyes landed on the eyes of Mother Harris, one of the oldest mothers of the church. Her old, speckled eyes locked onto mine. She’d been one of the few people I’d told about what I was asking the church to do. Being one of the elders of the church afforded you certain gifts.
“What do you need, Pastor?” someone called out from the crowd, and a couple of people echoed.
“I want the church to fast,” I announced. I looked at the crowd trying to see if my words had any effect on people, but they only shifted in their seats a little. “I’ve been praying on this for a couple of weeks, and God told me what we need to do. I’m asking you for your time and energy. I want you to take the time to think long and hard about something you care about and then give it up for a month.”
An uncomfortable shift went through the crowd. Like I said, I knew my flock. They trusted me with a lot of their secrets so I knew that the good Christians I was looking at on that Sunday left the sanctuary and became other things. They struggled like any normal people with all types of things. My role wasn’t to judge them though, because I had my own demons to deal with. I knew all too well what it was like to be in their seats. Each of us had our own secrets, some worse than others.
“I want you to think long and hard about this,” I said. “Take tonight and think about what you want to give up and then take tomorrow and the rest of the week. I’m not asking you all to take this lightly, but I ask that for one month, you give up something. It can be something that’s helpful or harmful to you, but it has to be something that means something to you. What’s life without sacrifice? And you are not in this alone, the First Lady and I will be abstaining from our own vices as well.” I paused to look back at my wife who was smiling at me.
I kept on going.
“Take your time and think long and hard about it. Take the week to think about your love for the church. Think about the things you want for yourself. Think about the joy you will feel when you’re done. God told me that he wants a sacrifice from this church, and this ain’t biblical times, so we don’t have any lambs to slaughter. We gotta sacrifice. I look out over this crowd of people and I see a lot of things, but I don’t see quitters. I see people that are gonna help this church get back to its glory! I won’t try and force you to do this, but if you are with us, please stand up and raise your hands. We’re in this together!”
A couple of people were moved, shouting out Amens and Hallelujahs. I put the mic down on the podium and waited. My wife was the first. She slowly stood and raised her hands. I walked over to her and grabbed her hand tightly. I looked to the organist and nodded my head. He hopped onto the seat and began to play something slow and melodious. It was deep and emotional, but I could see it slowly starting to take effect.
Slowly, people started to stand. The music playing through the speakers filled the sanctuary, and I felt the spirit enter the room. I watched as one by one, people got up and raised their hands. Some clapped slowly. Those who couldn’t stand simply held up their hands.
“I told you it would work,” my wife whispered in my ear as she stood next to me. I didn’t say anything as I was overcome with emotion at watching what was happening. I was proud of them, and I hoped that my prayers would be answered, the ones I’d been saying for the church and my own.
Fear eats the soul, and I was feeling mighty scared. I had my own secrets that I wasn’t trying to let get out. I was praying for my congregation, but I was also praying for myself, because if I didn’t get my own stuff together, it didn’t matter how much fasting we did, the church was doomed.
“One month!” I exclaimed. I made sure to look as many of them as possible in the eye. I wanted them to know how serious I was being. “That is all the Lord and I ask of you and of myself. We can do this. Hold one another accountable and really take this time to think about what you could give up. I’m available for counseling this week and we have Bible study and meditation on Wednesdays,” I said.
A couple of people in the crowd nodded at me. I locked eyes with a few people and let out a couple of smiles. I was feeling proud of what I was starting. Next week a change would begin in my church.
You never know until afterwards what the moments are going to be that change your life. That moment was one of them. If I had known then that the church members that I was praying so hard for were soon going to be my judge and jury, I’d have said to hell with them and kept on doing me.