facing, okay?”
“Please do, I need all the prayers I can get.”
“If you need a prayer partner, call me,” she said still holding Koren’s hands.
“I will,” she said, initiating another hug. “Let me get on down here so I can be on time for praise and worship. I’ll see
you later.”
“All right, you take care of yourself.”
Charity pondered her words in her heart as she packed up her belongings. She believed that Koren felt sorry for her and wanted
to make up for the lack of response from the class. She knew she did a terrible job and felt there was no one or nothing that
could prove her wrong. She walked slowly downstairs to the pastor’s study. She was feeling so inadequate and unequipped as
a minister, the last thing she wanted to do was to be around her pastor or fellow ministers.
I will bless the Lord at all times, His praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul will make her boast in the Lord.
“Good morning, Minister Phillips,” Pastor King said heartily as he stood when she entered the study. He had not yet put on
his robe, which was draped over the back of his chair. The room’s lighting was so dark it was hard to tell the color of his
suit, and his light complexion appeared two shades darker. His natural curly hair looked different today. Maybe he’d had a
haircut, she mused. He was an attractive man in his early fifties, who was a little weightier than when he had first come
to the church.
That was none of her business. Pastor King was happily married. His wife was a former fashion model in New York. She still
looked and carried herself like she was on the runway. Charity still felt goose bumps whenever she thought about how the Kings
met. Pastor King saw his future bride featured in an
Ebony
magazine as a Fashion Fair model. He cut out her picture and claimed her as his wife. He carried that picture around in his
Bible for months. One Sunday, he was sitting in his father’s pulpit and guess who walked into the church? In the middle of
the service, he pulled her picture out of his Bible to compare the faces. He thought he would fall out of the chair. After
the service he talked with her and learned that she was in Charlotte for a special event hosted by
Ebony
and Fashion Fair. He has told the congregation that story many times. Especially in his sermons on faith and hope. And the
rest is history. Pastor King married her on one Sunday and he preached his first sermon as pastor of Damascus Road Baptist
Church the next. That was fourteen years ago.
Pastor King’s desk was closest to the door, so she went over to him and gave him a quick hug before she greeted the other
associate ministers in the room. “Good morning Pastor. Is all well?”
“All is well, Minister. How are you?”
“I’m blessed,” she said as enthusiastically as she could. “And highly favored.”
“Good, good. It’s good to see you. Have a seat.”
Pastor King loved antiques. An old oak floor-model cabinet displayed his collection of miniature automobiles. Glass end tables
matched the cabinet. An aluminum knight in the corner behind his desk held a shield in one hand and a sword in the other.
Pastor King said it was his reminder to get dressed in the whole armor of God. The oldest members of the ministerial staff,
Reverends Charles Hubbard and Walter Johnson, occupied the two chairs facing his desk.
“Good morning Reverends,” she said, extending her hand to them individually to shake. Neither of them stood and they barely
returned her greeting. She walked over to the newly ordained Reverend Tim Miller, who sat in a chair diagonal to the pastor’s
desk. “Good morning, Reverend.” He stayed seated but he firmly shook her hand. The other three ministers sat on the two love
seats in the back of the room. They were young ministers, in age and in years of ministry served. Ministers Richard Dukes
and Joshua Sadler were in their mid-thirties. Charity used to
Learning to Kill: Stories