The Pastor

By Asche

Copyright 2015

Chapter 5 -- A Conversation over Lunch

Friday was the pastor's lunch with Reverend Ken Jackson, pastor of the Carrington African church. It was his turn to bring lunch. One time, he'd invited Reverend Jackson to the luncheonette in Hopewell, and while nobody said or did anything that was less than perfectly polite, the way they looked at them, especially Reverend Jackson -- well, the pastor didn't want to put Reverend Jackson through that again. Today he'd brought turkey salad he'd made himself, ham biscuits, and corn bread.

They sat down at one of the tables in the parish hall, where someone had set two places, complete with a water jug. The pastor unpacked the lunch.

"Is that your home-made turkey salad?" asked Reverend Jackson. "You do make a fine salad, Reverend Hanley."

"You're very kind to say so, Reverend Jackson," replied the pastor. "But it's not as good as your fried chicken. If you ever get tired of preaching, your chicken could give KFC a run for their money."

"But I'd never make a dime if you started selling your turkey salad, my customers would all eat turkey salad instead of my chicken." They both laughed.

Having satisfied the demands of courtesy, they got down to telling each other of the trials and triumphs they'd encountered in their ministries since the last time they'd met. They tried to respect confidentiality, but since pretty much everything they dealt with was known to pretty much everyone in the community, for most of what they discussed, confidentiality was a moot point.

The pastor finally got to the matter that was sticking in his conscience like a thorn. "Do you ever have find times when it seems like the Word of the Lord from the Bible just -- just doesn't seem to answer the questions you face in your ministry?"

"What are you thinking of, Reverend?" asked Reverend Jackson.

"We are all created by the Lord, that I believe, and I don't believe the Lord makes mistakes, either. But sometimes, I just can't reconcile what the Lord says and what the Lord does."

"You wouldn't be thinking of a certain seven-year-old boy, would you?"

The pastor started. "Who said anything about a boy?"

"I don't think there's anyone in Hopewell that doesn't know that there's a boy who acts more like a girl than a boy and wears dresses in the privacy of his home. And since white folks never seem to realize that black folks have perfectly good ears and will talk like they weren't there, everyone here knows it, too."

The pastor calmed himself. "I'm torn. The boy says he can't stop feeling like he is really a girl. He's convinced he's going to Hell for it. Every time I see him, he looks so hopeless. And his mother says he's started praying for the Good Lord to call him home and send him back with either his body or his nature changed, so he won't feel so torn apart. I spoke to the psychologist in Milburn, and she won't talk about him, but she says boys like him mostly never change. Either they live as girls, maybe even getting operations so they'll look more like girls. Or they commit suicide or destroy themselves with drugs or drink. I can't tell him that the Lord says what he's doing is right. But I don't have the heart to keep telling him and his mother that it's a sin, either. Not when I see how much it's hurting him."

The two men sat in silence for a while.

"You know," said Reverend Jackson in a thoughtful voice. "I think sometimes the Lord sends us conundrums. Things where we don't know the answers. Maybe it's to test us. Or maybe -- maybe it's to challenge us. To get us out of the rut where we know all the answers. Or where we think we know all the answers."

"What are you suggesting, Reverend Jackson?"

"I don't know, Reverend Hanley. Maybe we just need to pray. Pray and trust that if we have faith and allow the Lord to lead us, He will lead us down the path He has appointed for us."

The two men sat up, closed their eyes, and bowed their heads. Reverend Jackson began. "Lord, look down upon thy servant Warren. Give him, we pray, guidance, that he may follow thy Divine will in ministering to thy child Jesse. For his sake, for Jesse's sake, may thy will be done. Amen."

The pastor hadn't ever been prayed over by a colored preacher. At first, he wasn't sure he liked it, but he quickly reminded himself that the Lord asks us to be humble and remember that we are all His children.

"Maybe not the most elegant prayer I've ever said, but I always say, it's more important what you have in your heart than the wording you use. I do hope the Lord will give you guidance." The pastor looked at Reverend Hanley and Reverend Hanley looked back, and for the first time in all the years they'd known each other, he felt a love that was not tainted by their history.

The moment passed, they shook hands, and went their separate ways.