LITMIR.BIZ

      Faith Alexandria Morrell didn’t care about church anymore. She’d had more than her fill of “church folks.” One thing she could never understand was how the church pastor, who constantly hammered other folk about what they should and shouldn’t do, could end up doing that same wrong thing, get caught, and the church would just forgive him and keep him on. It made no sense to her.

      “They’re all only human. He’s just a man,” her friend Dominique told her. Faith was still living in New Orleans then. She had questioned why the congregation hadn’t kicked their pastor out on his holier-than-thou, self-righteous tailbone after they caught him messing around with all those women in the church. “Who are we to judge?” Dominique said. “Only God can do that.”

      Faith still didn’t get it. She had witnessed him deliver a few sermons from the pulpit, getting the church all emotional as he began to sing and moan. The next thing she knew, hats and shoes were flying all over the place; people’s glasses were landing on the floor or in the pews behind them; men were yanking off suit coats, ties, and jackets and running around, shouting. The women were dancing, unconcerned whether things she didn’t care to see or mention were showing as they jumped or fell down, their dresses, blouses, skirts in disarray. Faith wondered—how holy could this be?

      Those who weren’t shouting were running up to the pastor and laying paper money at his feet, which only seemed to make him whoop and holler more.

      Faith just did…not…get it. People claimed it was the Holy Spirit that had caused them to act that way, but she knew from scripture that the spirit was subject unto the prophet. She wasn’t a Bible scholar, but that much she did know. This was emotionalism, pure and simple. It was the way they chose to react or express the way they were feeling, which was fine as far as Faith was concerned. She just wished folk would call it what it was and quit acting like they were being uncontrollably possessed or something.

      Then this same pastor was caught having affairs with not one, not two, but three ladies in his congregation at the same time. What was worse, his wife was the one who finally caught him on tape. When she brought her audio evidence before the congregation during one Sunday morning’s service, proving he was with this one woman, that caused two other women to pop up mad and argue there was no way this could possibly be true, seeing as he was with “her” exclusively. Talk about angry. They didn’t seem to mind that he was cheating on his wife, but it was a whole other matter when they learned he wasn’t being so faithful to them, either.

      The pastor confessed to his loyal congregation a week later. Faith happened to be there that Sunday by special invitation from Dominique. They had front-row seats. He delivered a passionate, tearful plea, begging for forgiveness. He claimed Satan had him bound, using his godly gift of loving others against him. Apparently, he loved all the people in his congregation so much, he couldn’t bear to see any of them in pain.

      The pastor claimed he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, especially his lovely wife, who, incidentally, was driving a brand, spanking-new Mercedes-Benz and sporting a three-carat diamond ring. But he was only a man and not God, he said, and he was not perfect, nor, coincidentally, was any of them sitting there. A few people behind Faith were whispering that one or two of those women just might have put some type of voodoo on him to cause him to behave that way. Faith didn’t believe in voodoo.

      Then the pastor closed with a classic line: “He who is among you without sin, let him cast the first stone.” As he looked over the audience, he knew there wasn’t a person there who hadn’t done something wrong. Maybe not that week, and maybe not to the extent that he’d done, but they were all guilty of something. “And a sin is a sin is a sin. There are no big or little sins in God’s sight,” he said, looking repentant, then upward toward heaven.

      His closing defense was: “God uses imperfect people to do His work.” Yes, he had fallen, but no one had a right to judge him when everybody there was guilty of something themselves. “Amen?” he said, jumping up as he got more “in the spirit.”

      Faith was a visitor and all the visitors had been asked to wait outside the sanctuary during the vote. Faith couldn’t believe the congregation actually bought into what he had said and overwhelmingly voted to allow him to stay on.

      “I just don’t understand,” Faith said to Dominique as they walked toward the parking lot. “Why in heaven’s name would y’all vote to keep a scumbag like him as your pastor?”

      Dominique had only said, “But girl, the man can preach! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a real man…I’m talking about a real man who can preach and sing? Honey, hush! We’re not letting the devil come in and mess up our good thing. Now, he came forward and asked for forgiveness. The Bible clearly admonishes us to forgive. How often? Seventy times seven. The pastor has been talked to about his behavior. He understands he can’t do things like that anymore. So what more do people want?” She smiled, then popped her chewing gum three times.

      And that was that.

      Okay, so the man could preach and he could sing, Faith thought. But she couldn’t help but believe these people needed a good reality check. Dominique insisted Faith was the one who was wrong, and the least she could do

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