Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [4]
The church was growing, with new members joining every week, attracted by the new pastor's fiery preaching and his message of social justice. But every Sunday, Theophilus scanned the faces of his congregation with his heart pounding and sickness in his stomach, ready to break out in a cold sweat, should he glimpse the pale pink suit, pink lace gloves, and matching rose church hat that was the signature ensemble of Glodean Benson.
To honor his first anniversary as pastor, Bishop Jennings and Rev. James arranged for Theophilus to serve as the guest preacher for a week-long revival that was being held at St. Paul's Gospel United Church in Jackson, Mississippi. Usually more seasoned and well-known pastors worked revivals, for it was a way to gain visibility in the denomination. Theophilus recognized that choosing him was an expression of confidence and faith, and he fervently thanked God for granting him the strength to face the challenges of that first year. Every morning before he started working, he got down on his knees and prayed, saying, "Thank you, Lord. Thank you for forgiving me, Lord, and keeping me strong and steadfast. My trust is in you, Lord. Thank you for walking with me each day, lighting my path into the future you have set before me."
And the Lord, ever mindful of the most pure, sincere, and heartfelt desires of his children, now granted Theophilus a two-for-one prayer miracle. The first miracle was blessing him so that he preached with such power that it was as if he was trying to raise the dead. And the second miracle dealt strictly with matters of the heart.
His first revival sermon sent folks home feeling good about what God had said to their hearts, thinking about what Theophilus had prayed about, and looking over the scripture readings that accompanied his text. But with each passing day, his sermons became hotter and hotter, until on that last night, he walked up in the church so full of spiritual fire he felt like he had what his mother said was "fire all shut up in his bones." He had "gotten the spirit" before, but he had never felt anything so consuming as the power of God in that little church on that last night. All while he was preaching, he couldn't keep still, couldn't stay put in the pulpit, and before he knew it, he was taking one long-legged stride out from behind the podium, shouting, "Thank you, Jesus," and running right into the center aisle of the church.
When he ran into the aisle, folks started coming out of their seats, waving their hands in the air, fanning fans and programs in his direction, talking about, "Preach, boy, preach!" And when it was clear that just about everybody in the sanctuary was becoming lit up with the Holy Ghost, the organist hopped up from his seat and began to play duum-duum, duum-duum—that generic, deep-bass-sounding melody that always let everyone at a highly charged Negro church service know it was time to cut loose.
When the organist saw that folks were itching to shout, he started playing louder and with more intensity, looking around to see which one of the women would get the spirit first. But it was Theophilus, and not one of the women, who took up the cause and got everybody dancing and running through the aisles. And at that point, the duum-duum, duum-duum turned into a fast-paced duum-duum-duum-duum, duum-duum-duum-duum that set off a chain reaction of shouting, dancing, and praising God that tore up every pew in the sanctuary. When the congregation reached a peak that couldn't be surpassed and Theophilus started experiencing a climax of his own raging emotions, he looked over at the musicians and signaled for them to calm the music down.
At that point he walked back into the pulpit and said breathlessly, "I don't know about you but I'm sure glad that these musicians found some time to steal away from Hallowed Ground Church of God and Christ to play for us tonight. You know, church, I do believe that God likes that music about as much as we do.