Dance Into Destiny (10 page)

“Mark, honey, please don't be insecure. I'm just trying to do whatever I have to do to make sure I don't fail this program. I would think you would understand and support me so I can do the best I can in school.” There—she'd answered his guilt trip with one of her own.

“I'm coming over there, Keeva. I think we need to talk in person.”

“No, Mark. I'm tired from studying and I want to go to sleep. I don't feel like talking.”

“This is no way to maintain a healthy relationship. I'm on my way.”

“I'm going to bed. I'm asking you not to come over. Can't you respect that?”

“Princess, we need to be together. All this time apart is bad for our relationship. We won't talk. I'll just hold you and we can both go to sleep.” He hung up before she could answer.

Keeva slammed the phone down. She wanted to crawl into her bed by herself and get some sleep. She knew he would want to stay in bed half the morning, have sex a few times, and then go to Sunday brunch. She would have to explain why she was going to church, and why she wasn't going to the church they went to together sometimes.

She decided to try to fall asleep before he got there, although there was very little chance of that happening. She crawled into bed and put her satin sleep mask on. About twenty-five minutes later, he crawled into bed beside her. She pretended to be asleep. Maybe he would leave her alone and she could sneak away in the morning.

That was too good to be true. She felt his hands roaming. She debated—give in and get it over with or pretend to be dead sleep and not respond? She tried fake sleeping for a few minutes, but his roaming became more annoying.

Keeva pretended to be waking up. “Hi, honey, you're here.”

Mark didn't even bother to answer. He kissed her and then rolled on top of her. She didn't bother to resist. It was amazing how fast he fell asleep afterwards. She literally had to roll him off of her.

She turned toward her bedroom window and stared out of it. Depression settled into her chest. She felt a little better as she thought about visiting Shara's church the next morning. Shara's words from their conversation that afternoon came to mind.

Yeah—she definitely needed God to radically change her life.

T
he next morning, Keeva dressed as quietly as possible. She couldn't figure out what to wear. When Shara said don't dress churchy, did she mean business casual or jeans? Knowing Shara, she would show up with jeans on. It didn't matter. Keeva couldn't bring herself to put jeans on knowing she was going to church.

She settled on a pair of khakis and a pink dress shirt. She grabbed her purse and snuck out the front door. Mark was a deep sleeper. If he didn't have anywhere to go, he could sleep until noon. If church didn't last too long, she could get back before he woke up.

She waited outside her apartment building for Shara to drive up.

“I would have buzzed the buzzer. You didn't have to stand on the street waiting for me.” Shara moved a pile of books out of the passenger's seat.

“Mark's upstairs asleep and I didn't want to wake him up.”

Shara didn't say anything.

Keeva gritted her teeth. It felt weird to admit to Shara that her boyfriend had spent the night. That was probably a major sin in Shara's mind.

About fifteen minutes later, they pulled up at an old school building on Hilliard Street. This was the church? Shara led her into the sanctuary. Keeva was glad she had worn the khakis. Everyone had on very casual clothes.

The sanctuary was actually what must have been the school auditorium with a stage and stadium seating. The stage looked more like it was set up for a concert than a church service. There were drums, a base guitar, an electric guitar, and two, huge keyboards.

Keeva stopped Shara, as she seemed to be heading toward the front. “Where are you going?”

“I always sit on the front row. What's wrong?”

Keeva pulled back. “I don't want to sit at the front. Can't we just sit here?” She motioned to a row about halfway back. Shara shrugged and scooted down the row with Keeva following her.

After a few minutes, a small group filed out onto the stage and took their places behind the instruments and a row of microphones. Everyone stood up. The band started playing some real jazzy music that was
way
too funky to be church music. The group started singing a song about praising God with dancing. A group of young people crowded down front around the stage. They were singing and dancing
hard
. They really seemed to be enjoying themselves.

A young man with baggy jeans and cornrows took the mic and started rapping. The young people down front danced even harder. Keeva had never heard anyone rap in church before. The band switched over to a calypso song. Everyone went wild as the group sang something about the Lion of the tribe of Judah. The kids down front did some coordinated steps.

After a few more equally rousing songs, the band switched gears and played something slow. The group sang, “. . . He's the Worthy Lamb of God, glorify the Lamb.”

The kids down front lifted their hands. They seemed to be as serious as they were when they were dancing. Many people had their eyes closed and their hands lifted. Some people were swaying back and forth with the music. Others were kneeling, some were crying.

Whatever the statement, everyone seemed to be trying to focus on God rather than on the music and the singers. Keeva looked around. She didn't know what to do. She didn't understand what the people were feeling and didn't want to fake it. At the same time, there was such reverence in the air, she felt as if it would be rude to sit down. She stood there with her hands at her sides.

She'd never seen anything like this at any church she'd gone to. She was more used to hymns, anthems and spirituals sung by a well directed, robed choir. It was rare that anyone said “amen” or “hallelujah” out loud, let alone raise their hands or even think about getting “happy”. Such displays of emotion were frowned upon.

The key changed and the lead singer said, “Come on, let's worship Him. Sing to the Lord out of your hearts. Let Him know how much you love Him.” She sang in a strong contralto voice, “I love you Lord, and I lift my voice. . . .” Everyone joined in.

Keeva knew the words to the song. She took a deep breath and began to sing. The more she sang, the more she relaxed. Since no one was watching her, she decided to lift her hands and close her eyes, releasing herself a bit more.

When the next chorus ended, everyone was quiet and the music played on. The woman leading sang softly, “Now just sing a love song to the Lord, sing your own song . . .”

Keeva heard everyone around her begin to sing. Even though they all sang something different, it all flowed together harmoniously. She began to feel something. It felt like energy—electricity, flowing through her body. It was strong and heavy, and kept coming over her in waves. It felt like love and strength and peace, and every good feeling she had ever felt before in her life. She felt this deepness, this pulling, this overwhelming
something
. Whatever it was, it made her nervous.

Keeva opened her eyes. Shara seemed caught up in whatever it was too. Her eyes were closed and tears were streaming down her face. Keeva sat down and smoothed out her blouse and khakis. She shook off the warm, tingly feeling and flipped through the pages of her Bible, trying to distract herself from being drawn in again.

The music played on for a few minutes longer, then a short, stocky man took the microphone and said quietly, “Lord, we thank you for your presence. We bask in your glory. Speak to us and tell us what's on your heart.”

He was casually dressed in a pair of black slacks and a beige dress shirt. He had been dancing off to the side of the stage while the band was playing.

Shara leaned over and whispered, “That's Pastor Kendrick.”

Keeva looked at him. That was the pastor? She had expected someone older, in a preacher's robe, or at least a suit. Of course, nothing else she had experienced had been like a conventional church so why should the pastor be?

“Thank you, worship team. You guys keep taking it to another level. I don't want to waste this atmosphere. I'd like to get right into the Word.” Pastor Kendrick paused. “Let me make an introduction first. Quinton, can you come up here?”

A tall, dark man in a perfectly tailored, blue pinstripe suit walked onto the stage. Obviously, no one had told him about the relaxed dress code.

Pastor Kendrick grinned from ear to ear. “I'd like you all to meet Minister Quinton Mercer. As many of you know, we've been in the process of hiring a youth pastor. We've met many candidates and finally God sent us Minister Mercer. We've spent the week getting to know each other. We've discussed our visions and both had time to seek the Lord. I'm pleased to announce he has agreed to join us as our new youth pastor. Please welcome him.”

Keeva heard Shara's breath catch. Everyone rose and applauded.

A voice behind them said, “Girl, he is
too
fine. Is he married?”

“Now women of God . . .” Pastor Kendrick grinned mischievously as the applause died down. “Let me make an announcement. No, Minister Mercer is not married and he's informed me that he's not looking.”

Everyone laughed.

“So please, do
not
pass him your phone number, don't offer to cook him dinner, and he's the YOUTH pastor, so don't try to schedule any counseling sessions with him.”

More laughter.

“And don't be getting no revelations about ‘the Lord sent him here to be my husband.' ”

Everyone laughed. The voice behind them said, “Girl, just watch me. Give me a year, no six months. I will be Mrs. Youth Pastor.”

Pastor Kendrick motioned for Quinton to say a few words.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning. It's really good to see you all this morning.”

The voice behind them said, “Naw baby, it's good to see
you
.”

“I'm very excited about joining you all here. I am very committed to working with young people to help them become the best they can be and I am pleased that it seems like our visions . . .” he motioned to Pastor Kendrick, “. . . are so similar. I'm looking forward to serving you.”

That annoying voice again. “Naw, baby, I'm looking forward to serving
you.
Where do I sign up to work with the young people?”

Keeva leaned over toward Shara. “Do you get to work with him? He's absolutely gorg—. . . he seems very nice.”

Shara nodded. Keeva looked at her more closely. She had a weird look on her face. Had she been passed over for that position?

Quinton returned to his seat and Pastor Kendrick flipped through the Bible. “Let's get started. Turn in your Bibles to . . .”

 

The music played softly after Pastor Kendrick prayed. Everyone was quiet, taking in the message. Pastor Kendrick finally spoke. “I don't want to ruin this atmosphere. You can leave your tithes and offering in the baskets at the back on the way out.”

That was the last straw for Keeva. At the church she went to, they took up at least
three
offerings—tithes and offering, building fund, and missionary offering. That was one of the things she hated about church the most—the preacher spending an hour begging for money. She leaned over to Shara.

“They don't take up offering?”

Shara shrugged. “Sometimes. They always have the baskets up front and at the back for people to put their money in if he forgets. When he really gets into the music or the sermon, it sometimes slips his mind. He teaches on tithes and offering on a regular basis, then leaves it up to us.”

Shara waved to someone. “I want you to meet somebody.”

She led Keeva to the front. She gestured to an older woman. She looked like a queen in her lavender African dress with a matching head wrap. She floated over to where they were.

“Keeva, this is Mother Hobbs, my friend I told you about. Mother Hobbs, this is my friend, Keeva. We go to school together.”

Keeva extended her hand, but the older woman pulled her into an embrace.

“It's good to meet you, Keeva. I'm glad you joined us today. Did you enjoy the service?”

Keeva nodded. “It was very different, but that's probably why I enjoyed it so much.”

“Good, I hope you'll join us again.”

Mother Hobbs turned to Shara. “Looks like we've got ourselves a youth pastor. Listen, I was up all night cooking up a big welcome dinner for Quinton. Pastor Kendrick and Jenell will be joining us. I'd love to have you two come.”

Before Keeva could consider accepting, Shara said, “Oh, no thanks, I have to drop Keeva off. We rode together.”

Keeva knew she should get home to avoid an argument with Mark. She wanted to go to dinner, though. If this was the woman to whom Shara attributed her spiritual growth, she wanted to see what she was about. She also wanted a chance to see what the pastor was like in person. He seemed so sincere while preaching. But she had heard of a lot of ministers who could really preach, but secretly drank heavily, or stole the church's money, or were sleeping with all the women in the church. She wanted to see if he was the man of integrity he seemed to be.

“Actually, I don't have any plans, Ms. Hobbs. I'd love to come.” Keeva smiled.

Shara shot her a funny look.

Mother Hobbs beamed. “Wonderful! You ladies can come on over and help me get everything set up. Quinton is going to hang around here for a while to meet and greet people, and then he'll ride over with Pastor Kendrick.”