Let the Church Say Amen (20 page)

T
HE CHURCH WAS PACKED
. It seemed everyone who had ever been a member of Zion Hill was there today—they all wanted to see how what one person had called “the hottest story of the year” would turn out.

Simon couldn’t gauge the reaction of the members. Word had spread like wildfire that the deacons were trying to oust him. Several people had called him to express their condolences. He had also overheard some people saying he needed to just step down.

Simon focused his attention on Sister Hicks. Surely after all that he had put up with from her, her extensive testimony and unsolicited advice, she wouldn’t turn her back on him. If she supported him, then he would get support from many other members because, as crazy as she was, many people respected her and her judgment. However, when Simon tried to make eye contact, Sister Hicks pretended that she was brushing lint from her skirt.

As the young adult choir began singing their first selection, Simon’s fingers tapped along but his eyes made their way to the back doors of the church. He was hoping and praying that at least one of his children would show up and support him, but an hour into service, none of them had. He thought he’d seen that Tracy character come in, but he didn’t see him now.

“Pastor. Pastor.”

Simon was jolted out of his thoughts by Percy whispering his name. Simon looked around. The choir had stopped singing and everyone was staring at him. It was time for him to get up and call for the offering. Simon stood up and made his way to the podium. He kept thinking how good a minister he’d been to this church. He didn’t make people feel guilty for not giving enough during offering time. He didn’t drive around in fancy cars and sport expensive clothes while his parishioners struggled just to support their families. He was a modest man who lived a modest life, a life devoted to Zion Hill. Yet here he was, on the verge of losing it all. Simon wanted desperately to say something on his own behalf, but he’d agreed with the board not to bring up the voting matter until the church business meeting, after the service.

Luckily, there was a guest minister today, otherwise Simon didn’t think he would’ve made it through an entire sermon.

“It’s offering time,” Simon said. “Please bow your heads. Heavenly Father, please bless those who can give and those that can’t. Amen.”

Several people in the congregation looked at each other in amazement. Simon was never one to give a brief prayer. He could get very long-winded when it came to praying, but today he just wasn’t feeling it. Not when everything that he’d worked to build was on the line, and it sure didn’t look good not having his family there to support him.

Simon waited until the deacons had collected the offering, then turned the microphone over to Reverend Ernest Callahan of Sweet Home Missionary Baptist Church in Sugarland, a suburb of Houston.

Simon didn’t think he heard a word of Revered Callahan’s sermon. He did throw in a couple of amens, but they were only for good measure. He just couldn’t focus. All he could think of was that he’d lost Loretta. He had lost his children. Now he stood to lose the only thing left.

Simon was grateful when he saw Reverend Callahan wipe his brow and return to his seat. The church was really jumping. Several people were up shouting and praising God. Suddenly, it dawned on Simon that maybe having a guest preacher today was a bad idea. It would let the church see how well someone else could do in his place.

Simon went back to the podium, thanked Reverend Callahan, then proceeded with his usual invitation to discipleship, followed by the benediction. He tried to make everything go as quickly as possible without trying to seem rushed. He wanted everyone to think he was in control.

Simon stood at the door, putting on a good front, greeting members as they exited the church. He kept his conversations brief. Afterward, Simon reached over to Reverend Callahan. “Thank you for coming out and sharing with us today. Your message was mighty powerful.”

“Oh, really?” Reverend Callahan smiled slightly. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

“Pardon me?”

“It just seemed like you weren’t here with us today, Pastor.”

Simon looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Reverend Callahan patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ve heard about what’s going on. I totally understand and I want you to know I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thank you.” Simon looked relieved that the reverend understood. The last thing he wanted was to appear unappreciative about Reverend Callahan sharing with them today.

Simon noticed a flurry of activity as the deacons went around trying to make sure everyone still inside was indeed a member.

After they were satisfied, they closed the back doors. Deacon Jacobs went in front of the congregation. “Church, as you know, we have some issues at hand. As difficult as it has been for us, the board has decided to call for the resignation of Reverend Jackson. We feel that he does not serve in the best interests of Zion Hill and that the church needs to go in a different direction. We also feel that the emotional strain of losing his wife, the numerous problems with his family, and the adverse publicity is keeping him from being an effective leader of our beloved church. Our founder,” Deacon Jacobs pointed to the huge oil painting of an elderly white-haired man hanging on the wall over the choir stand, “Reverend Virgil Hicks, would not have been pleased with the direction our church is taking. Other churches are talking about us. I was in the barbershop the other day, and Zion Hill was the topic of discussion. We’re talking about it amongst each other, and it’s just not productive. We can’t get to the business of praising the Lord effectively and carrying out His mission, because there are too many outside things going on. I think we need to start fresh.”

Simon looked on in utter amazement, silently praying that he would wake up from this nightmare.

Deacon Jacobs continued. “And we don’t think things will get any better. Reverend Jackson doesn’t even have his own family here to support him. That is not how an upstanding pastor should lead. We would ask that you vote with the board in calling for the resignation of Reverend Simon Jackson.”

Simon cast his eyes downward. He had never felt so alone in all his life. He hadn’t planned a speech. He hadn’t been able to, even though he stayed up all night trying. Every time he tried to write something down, he would end up balling up the paper and throwing it away.

Simon took a deep breath, rose, and made his way to the front of the church. He decided to let God lead him in what he should say. Simon made eye contact with Deacon Jacobs, then turned to the congregation. “As I’m sure any of you can imagine,” Simon began, “this is difficult for everyone involved, especially me.” Simon softly laughed. “I’ll be the first to admit, I haven’t been the best father, but I have been the best pastor I can be. I’m proud of my accomplishments at Zion Hill. Since I’ve taken over, membership has risen; we’ve gotten the attention we deserve; and I just feel that I’ve been a good, honest, faithful servant. I hope that it is the Lord’s will that I stay on. But if it’s not, then I will accept it. If you vote in favor of keeping me on at Zion Hill, I do want you to know that this will not adversely affect my relationship with the board. In fact, I will work to try and overcome the differences and the concerns of the board. I will continue to work for you. If you choose to vote in favor of the board, then I will understand and respect your decision and step down as pastor of Zion Hill.” Simon returned to his seat.

A couple of people looked like they had questions and Simon wished he were able to address them. However, no questions were allowed.

Addie Lee made her way to the front. “At this time, the ushers are passing out ballot sheets. On them are two boxes: Yes, I vote in favor of the board’s decision to call for Reverend Jackson’s resignation or No, I vote to keep Reverend Jackson as pastor of Zion Hill. We’ll ask that you check one, list your name, and turn it in. Your votes will be kept confidential.”

The ushers handed out the slips of paper. There was a lot of whispering and murmuring among the congregation. Simon felt his heart pounding with anticipation.

Voting took only ten minutes. After all the ballots were collected, Addie Lee, the church treasurer, the secretary, and other selected members went to the back to tally them. Both Simon and the board had agreed on who would be present during the counting so that there would be no discrepancies.

Simon returned to his office, where he sat nervously awaiting the outcome. He couldn’t bear to wait in the sanctuary with the other members. Some had left, saying they’d just find out the vote later, but many remained.

Simon rubbed his temples as he rocked back and forth in his chair. He simply could not believe how much of a disarray his life had become. The ringing of the telephone interrupted his thoughts. Simon picked it up, bypassing his usual moniker. “Hello.” Simon sat for a second waiting on a response. “Hello,” he repeated.

“Mr. Jackson.”

“Yes?” Simon wasn’t much in a talkative mood. He wished he hadn’t even answered the phone.

“This is Tracy, Jon’s friend.”

Simon sat in stunned disbelief. “What do you want?”

“Can I come talk to you?”

“There is nothing you need to talk to me about. Unless it’s to tell me you’re sorry for corrupting my son and you’re leaving him alone.”

Tracy sighed. “Even if he isn’t with me, he’ll find another man,” Tracy softly said. “You have to accept that.”

Simon slammed the phone down. He couldn’t bear to listen to that madness.

It seemed like an eternity before Deacon Baker finally knocked on the door. “They’re done,” he said.

Simon nodded, pushed back from his desk, stood up, and raised his arms skyward. “Lord, give me the strength to accept whatever Your will may be.” He unzipped his robe to get some air, then pulled it back up, making his way out.

At the front of the congregation, Simon scanned the crowd. Several members looked uneasy, while some smiled confidently at him. Simon tried not to look at any of them too long because he didn’t want to read anything into their faces.

Addie Lee was in the back corner whispering to the church treasurer. The look on her face was blank, so Simon couldn’t tell how the vote had gone. She finally made her way back to the front and the crowd immediately settled down. “Well, church, you made your decision.” She looked back at Simon, who was sitting nervously in the pulpit. She then turned to the board sitting in the first row, followed by the congregation, before finally pulling out the slip of paper. “By a vote of 170 to 134, Reverend Simon Jackson will stay on as minister of Zion Hill.” Addie Lee tried to appear indifferent, but the way her shoulders sank told Simon she was disappointed.

Several people clapped, others groaned. Simon’s shoulders dropped with bittersweet relief. He was happy to have won, but 134 people wanted him gone. That was disheartening. Even so, he pulled himself together, smiled, and stretched out both of his hands. “Thank you, Jesus.”

Simon glanced at the deacons who were whispering among themselves. Many wore scowls. Simon told himself he’d deal with them later; they were going to have to overcome their differences. Several people raced to the front to offer Simon their congratulations. He thanked people for voting for him, promising to make Zion Hill proud.

Slowly, the people began making their way out of the church until Simon was the last person left. He walked back into his office and returned to his desk. “God is definitely good,” he said, leaning back with a smile. “He didn’t take away what I needed most.” His smile faded as he glanced at the family picture on his desk. Then he heard a little voice say, “No, but you did.”

S
IMON REMOVED
the turkey pot pie from the oven. This is what his Sunday dinners had been reduced to.

Some of the church members invited him over regularly, and one time Simon actually took Wanda Gilmore up on her offer. But that evening had been a disaster. She drilled him with all kinds of questions about Jonathan. Then she’d made innuendos about him finding a new woman. Simon knew she was talking about herself. He’d been so uncomfortable that he swore he’d rather just sit at home alone.

After eating, Simon would go back to church or handle some other church business, or spend the evening in front of the TV. He’d turned down offers to visit other churches, sometimes telling outright lies so he didn’t have to attend.

Simon was depressed. He hadn’t seen Nia and Jordan since the funeral. Even Loretta’s dog, Brandy, had sunk into a deep depression. She was no longer the frisky, annoying terrier who got in everyone’s way. She would stay in the corner, sulking. The house was empty, cold, and quiet. Simon had never been more miserable.

That’s why when he heard the doorbell ring, Simon was nearly startled out his chair. No one, not even a church member, had been by the house since the vote a month ago. Simon eased back from the table, walked to the front door, and pushed back the window curtain. He didn’t know what to say or do when he saw who was on the other side.

“Hello, Mr. Jackson.” Tracy waved.

What is he doing here? And what gives him the gall to think he can set foot on my doorstep?
Simon debated whether he should open the door, but he had not been able to get in touch with any of his children. They wouldn’t return his phone calls and he longed to know how they were doing. Simon decided the only way to find out would be to let Tracy in.

Simon opened the door, stood back, and watched the feminine way Tracy sauntered into the room.
I must be real desperate for conversation,
Simon thought as he closed the door.

Tracy turned to face Simon. “Thank you for letting me in. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“I almost didn’t.” Simon surveyed Tracy, who bore a look of confidence.

“I’m glad you did.” Tracy looked around. “Are you alone?”

I’m always alone, Simon wanted to say. “Yes.”

“Good. Can we talk?” Tracy motioned toward the sofa.

Simon wanted to throw this man out on his behind. Instead, Simon simply nodded, then walked over and sat down. “Talk.”

Tracy took a deep breath, then sat down in the Victorian high back across from Simon. “I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to do this since the funeral.” Tracy waited for Simon to respond. When he didn’t, Tracy kept talking. “Mr. Jackson, or can I call you Simon?”

“You can call me Mr. Jackson,” Simon sternly said.

Tracy tried not to smile. “Mr. Jackson, I know you’ll never understand my relationship with your son.”

“You’re right about that,” Simon said.

Tracy continued, unfazed. “And I know you can never understand this, but I love Jon. And Jon loves me.”

Simon felt like he wanted to throw up. Tracy seemed almost arrogant in his confidence, but there was something genuine about his words.

“Jon also loves you,” Tracy said.

Simon shook his head again. “I just can’t accept that my son is gay. It’s wrong. It’s in the Bible.”

“A Bible written by men.”

“Who were led by God.” Simon prepared for the defensive. He knew this man wasn’t about to try to take him and the Word of God on.

“Look, I didn’t come here to get into a religious debate on homosexuality,” Tracy said. “Nothing I say is going to get you to agree with my lifestyle, and nothing you say is going to make me think how I’m living is wrong. So can we just agree to disagree?”

Simon thought about it. “Fine. We’ll agree to disagree.”

“Good.” Tracy slapped his hands on his legs. “Can we talk about Jon?”

That’s a conversation Simon didn’t mind having, even if he did have to have it with Tracy. “How is he?”

“He’s happy. Really and truly happy.”

Simon nodded. He still longed to hear more news about his son. “So, he’s doing okay?”

Tracy nodded. “He was unhappy for so long because he couldn’t be honest with you. I think it was eating him alive. Although he’s much better now, a piece of him is still missing. You.”

Simon knew exactly what Tracy was talking about. He felt empty also. Jonathan had been his joy for so long, it pained him to be estranged from the one child who had made him so proud.

“How did you two meet? I mean, did you approach him? I mean …”

Tracy laughed. “You mean, did I approach your son and make him gay? No, Jon was gay long before I entered the picture. He just wouldn’t admit it.”

“But he dated girls and everything. And Angela,” Simon stammered.

“Call him bisexual, then.”

Simon cringed.

“I actually think he was trying desperately to make himself believe he was straight. Angela was just the icing on the cake. I’m sure you’ve heard about his exploits with women.”

Simon had heard the rumors that Jon was just as promiscuous as Rachel, if not more so. But he had blown it off because one, he took it as just idle gossip and two, it wasn’t that big of a deal since he was a boy.

Tracy continued talking. “Jon told me all about his wild ways, but he was like that because he was running.”

Simon couldn’t stop shaking his head in disbelief. None of this was making any sense. He couldn’t understand how something like this could have happened. How could his son, his flesh and blood, be into something so wrong, so vile?

“Judging from the look on your face, you think being gay is as low as a person can sink, right?” Tracy asked.

Simon stared at the man sitting in front of him. This had to be all his fault. Jonathan was fine until he went away to college. “So, I guess you’re going to tell me you were born this way, too?”

“Honestly, I don’t know why I’m gay. I can tell you with all we have to endure, it’s definitely not a choice I made.” Tracy mockingly put his index finger to his temple and tilted his head like he was thinking. “Let’s see, should I like men and be ridiculed all my life? Or, fly through women and be called a stud?” He removed his finger, his expression turning serious. “Trust me, if I had to choose, I’d choose the latter. But this is just who I am. Much like it’s who Jonathan is. The only difference is, I’ve accepted it. Jonathan, on the other hand, had not. Until these last few weeks.”

As much as Simon missed his son, he didn’t know how much longer he could stomach this conversation. “What did you come here for?” Simon asked.

Tracy lowered his eyes. “I love Jonathan.”

“You said that already.”

“And because I love him, I want him to be happy, completely happy.” Tracy lifted his head and looked Simon in the face. “Why can’t he have both of us?”

Simon didn’t know how to respond. He desperately wanted to see Jonathan, to make things right. He actually wanted to make things right with all his children. But he honestly didn’t know if he could ever accept Jonathan’s lifestyle. “Where is Jonathan now?”

“He’s at home. We got an apartment by Reliant Stadium.”

“We? So you live here now?”

“Yes, I moved here to be with Jonathan. It was a deviation from our plans, but it’s what we both want.”

Simon wanted to ask him a lot more questions, like what kind of job did Tracy have that he could just up and move hundreds of miles away in a matter of weeks. But right now, his mind was focused on his younger son.

“Jonathan is cooking dinner next Friday. David, Rachel, and the kids will be there. I was hoping you would come. I was praying you would come.” Tracy smiled. “Believe it or not, I do pray.”

Simon leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. He would love to see his kids. All of them. He reflected on Loretta’s letter.
Show them you love them.
Tracy was silent, letting Simon simmer in his thoughts.

“Let me pray on it,” Simon finally said, opening his eyes. “Call me on Friday morning and I’ll let you know.” Simon couldn’t believe he was saying this, but it was time, even if it took Tracy to make it happen.

Tracy beamed. “Friday morning it is, then.” He stood up. “I’ll see myself out.” Tracy made his way to the front door, stopped just before opening it, then confidently turned toward Simon. “Jon needs you. So do Rachel and David, even if they won’t admit it.” Tracy walked out, gently closing the door behind him.