Good to Me by LaTonya Mason Read Free Book Online Page B

thirty years ago.”
    The dignitaries on the front row sat as rigidly as the two older reverends in the study were now.
    “I’m sorry, Reverend Hubbard, but I don’t see how that’s out of order. If you think it’s necessary, we could talk about it
     further in our next ministers’ meeting. When is that? Second Saturdays? Next Saturday? Let’s talk about it then.”
    Reverend Hubbard crossed his legs, rolled his eyes, and shifted his body in the direction of the door. “Since we don’t have
     an assignment this morning, do you even want us to sit in the pulpit?”
    Charity felt her eyes stretch open. She knew the older reverends could get an attitude, but he was being insubordinate. “The
     seating arrangements have not changed,” Pastor King replied.
    As if they had been resurrected from the dead, the ministers in the back began to encourage Charity in an attempt to convince
     her that she was more than capable of preparing the congregation to worship.
    “All right, everyone has their assignments, let’s pray and dismiss.”
    Everyone met in the center of the room and held hands. Charity stood between Reverend Miller and Minister Adams, and across
     the room from the older men.
    “Minister Phillips, see me after service, please. Everyone bow your heads,” Pastor King admonished. “Dear precious and wise
     heavenly Father, we thank You this morning for our life, health, and strength. I thank You, Lord, for these men and woman
     of God you have entrusted to me, and the sheep out in the fold, bless each of them, Father. Prepare this church for Your coming,
     may You find us to be a church without spot or wrinkle. Bless the furtherance of the worship services, and may our hearts
     and minds be stayed on You. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.” Lifting his head, he said, “Go in peace.”
    The first two rows of pews on both sides of the church were reserved for its dignitaries. The deacons, charter members, and
     church mothers occupied the seats. Charity tried not to look at them as she focused on the praise and worship team. Charity
     looked out in the pews to find her best friend, April. She found her three pews back watching every move Minister Adams made.
     Charity smiled, shook her head at April, and closed her eyes so that she could visualize the words the praise team sang regarding
     welcoming the King into the sanctuary.
    Charity focused on the words of exultation and found strength to do what she would have to after they finished this last song.
     Before the soloist gave her final note, Charity was already at the podium with the microphone in her hand.
    “Is He welcome this morning, saints? Is He welcome in this place? Then stand to your feet and welcome the King, invite Him
     in. When is the last time He sat down on you? Let us not sit down on Him.”
    The praise and worship team continued to sing softly, and Charity began to pray. And the more she prayed, the more the atmosphere
     changed at Damascus Road Baptist Church. Most people from the third row of pews to the back of the church and even those in
     the balcony stood. Some lifted their hands, some swayed from side to side, some had tears streaming down their faces, but
     they all looked relieved that something was happening.
    “Oh Lord, You are welcome in this place,” she prayed. “Have Your way, Father God. Lord, we know You to be a healer, heal right
     now in the name of Jesus. Someone needs a deliverer, deliver right now in the name of Jesus. Someone needs a provider, provide
     Lord in Your Son’s matchless name. God, we know You to be a restorer, a waymaker, a mind-regulator, a heart mender…”
    Charity could not believe how fast the words came to her mind to say. She felt uncomfortably hot, like she had a fever all
     over her body. Even her ears felt like they were on fire.
    The praise and worship team ended their selection as she ended her prayer. The congregation’s worship was so loud, Charity
     could not be heard. “God bless