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Authors: Lutishia Lovely

BOOK: Divine Intervention
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Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow
I
t was the second Sunday in August and in sunny Southern California, the day was fabulous. The weather was picture perfect and in the Montgomery household, all was well. Derrick Jr. played a handheld video in the formal living room. As usual, the fourteen-year-old was the first one ready for church. His staid, formal attire was in stark contrast to the kiddie activity of video playing, but suit, tie, starched shirt, and buffed shoes was just how this young blood rolled. Upstairs the housekeeper, Anastacia, helped Elisia by piling her long curls atop her head before securing it with a satiny ribbon. The girly tendrils framed a face quickly losing its baby fat to reveal high cheekbones, a soft jawline, and to highlight big doe-brown eyes. Frilly yellow and pink chiffon dresses and patent leathers had been replaced by a stylish designer outfit and high-heeled shoes. She picked out matching earrings and a bulky bracelet with the precision of a well-trained fashionista and finished her look with a spritz of Someday. Elisia looked in the mirror and loved what she saw. But her approval of self had nothing on the heights of adoration happening in the master suite.
Derrick eyed himself critically as he looked in the massive dressing room mirror. “You sure this looks okay?”
“You look amazing,” Vivian answered, walking up behind her husband and wrapping her arms around his waist. Derrick continued to eye himself in the mirror. “So good, in fact, that I suggest we skip the morning service, send the kids away, and spend the day in bed.”
Derrick was a handsome man who’d always felt confident about his appearance. Yet a rare glimmer of doubt flitted across his face. He raised his hands and further secured the off-white and tan knitted skull cap that covered his still baldness and more importantly, the neat yet noticeable three-inch scar from the incision that had been made in the back of his head. “I look like a Muslim,” he concluded, with a sigh. “Makes me feel like I should address the congregation with an
assalamu alaikum
.”
“Baby, God has spared your life and made it possible for you to walk back into Kingdom Citizens clothed and in your right mind, as Mother Moseley would say, and with your heart keeping the proper time. The members have waited six long weeks for this moment. It’s not important how you address them. It’s important that you still can.”
Derrick’s eyes twinkled with lifelong love as he stared into Vivian’s sincere eyes. “When did you get to be so smart?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.
“I’ve always been this smart,” she retorted with a smile, stepping fully into his embrace. “I thought that’s why you married me.”
“No,” Derrick replied. He placed his hands on her booty and gave a firm squeeze. “This is why I married you.” He kissed her gently, tenderly. “And this.” He slid his mouth from her cheek to her neck, giving it a quick swipe with his tongue before he began to nibble. “And this . . .”
Vivian moaned. “Man, if you keep this up you won’t be
ad
dressing anybody because I’ll be
un
dressing you!” She wiggled out of his strong arms and walked over to where the jacket to his off-white, perfectly tailored designer suit was hung. Derrick’s eyes followed her as she did so, taking in the dangerous yet delectable curves showcased in her ivory Dior, the strong calves above her jeweled Louboutin pumps, and the soft, just-turned-under jet black hair that swung just below her shoulders. His mouth watered as her cheeks winked at him with each step she took. She looked good enough to eat, he decided. And the next time they were in private, he planned to do just that.
Thirty minutes later Kingdom Citizens Christian Center’s first family pulled into the packed church parking lot. Derrick eased his brand new pearl white Jaguar into the reserved spot just steps from the pastor’s private entrance. His assistant, Lionel, had perfectly timed their arrival and stepped out onto the concrete before Derrick could turn off the engine. The family exited the car looking as if they should be on the cover of
Ebony,
or a greeting card. Elisia held on to her father’s hand while Derrick Jr. gripped his Bible and fell into step just behind his dad. Their countenance and build were eerily similar, especially since Derrick had lost weight following surgery and Derrick Jr. seemed to grow an inch every day. It also didn’t hurt that as a sign of solidarity the son was sporting an ivory and tan skull cap . . . just like his dad.
“Good to see you, man,” Lionel said, foregoing a handshake to engulf his pastor, mentor, and friend in a hug. After a couple back pats, he stepped back and took in Derrick’s appearance. Neither Vivian nor Derrick missed the mistiness of his eyes. “Sporting a new look, I see,” he continued, clearing the raspiness from his voice. Using humor to cover his emotion, he added, “What are you getting ready to do, sell bean pies?”
Derrick cut his eyes at Vivian as he stepped past the door that Lionel held open. “I told you.”
Vivian cut her eyes at Lionel as she hurried to catch up with Derrick. “You two are way too intelligent to be giving in to stereotypes. Not all Muslim men wear skull caps and not all men who wear these caps are Muslim men or religious at all. So give it a rest, will you?”
“Ah, Lady Vee, I was just messing with Pastor. Nobody could mistake his faith with that big platinum cross he’s rockin’!”
Derrick turned around as he heard the vibrating doorbell. Lionel quickly crossed over and, after identifying who was on the other side of the door, opened it and ushered Kelvin and Princess inside.
“Hey Rev,” Kelvin said, his long strides quickly eating up the distance between him and his dad. “Look at you sporting a new look and whatnot.”
“Yeah, well...” Derrick answered, bringing a self-conscious hand to his cap-covered head.
“Naw, man. I likes that. It’s cool.” He noticed Derrick Jr.’s replica and asked, “What? Y’all didn’t buy me one?” When Derrick Jr.’s eyes widened, Kelvin continued. “Oh, I see how it is.”
“Sorry, brother,” Derrick Jr. said, hanging his head.
Kelvin gave him a playful punch. “It’s a’ight, dog. We’ll go get one after church.”
Princess hugged her aunt and uncle and the family continued down the hall. As soon as Derrick turned the corner and staff members noted his arrival, he was engulfed in hugs and love and “welcome backs” and tears of joy. Derrick took it all in, and wasn’t at all ashamed of the tears he also shed. Their hearty welcome reminded him yet again of how blessed he was to be alive. When he saw his number-one associate minister and good friend Cy Taylor and Cy’s wife, Hope, standing just beyond the group of well-wishers, he politely extracted himself and walked over to greet them.
“My man!” Cy exclaimed, adding a shoulder bump to his handshake. He stepped back. “Are you sure you just had brain surgery a month ago? Because it sure doesn’t look like it.”
Smiling, Derrick turned to Hope for the hug that awaited. “It’s good to see you, Pastor,” she managed past a choked up throat.
“God is faithful, Mrs. Taylor,” Derrick said with a wink. While Vivian and Hope greeted each other with hugs, he looked back and noted the hallways filling with people who could access the executive offices. The word was out. Pastor Derrick was back. “Go handle that, will you, Lionel?”
Lionel nodded and turned on his heel with military precision, ready to politely yet firmly usher everyone to their seats with the promise that Pastor was well aware of their concern and love, and would soon be thanking all of them from the pulpit. Derrick then turned to Cy and Hope. “Y’all come into the office.”
A short time later, Derrick, Vivian, Cy, Hope, other associate ministers and some executive staff headed to the side door leading to the pulpit. As Derrick neared the door, he paused, drinking in the sounds of Darius Crenshaw and the Kingdom Citizens Choir. They were doing a jazzed up version of a timeless gospel classic.
All hail the power of Jesus’ Name, let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all!
 
Ye chosen seed of Israel’s race, ye ransomed from the fall,
Hail Him Who saves you by His grace, and crown Him Lord of all!
 
Let every kindred, every tribe, on this terrestrial ball,
To Him all majesty ascribe, and crown Him Lord of all!
 
Oh, that with yonder sacred throng, we at His feet may fall!
We’ll join the everlasting song, and crown Him Lord of all!
Derrick closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep it together when he really wanted to fall to his knees and bawl like a baby.
“You ready, Pastor?” Lionel asked, his hand on the doorknob as he looked back.
Derrick felt Vivian’s reassuring touch on his back, and after taking a deep breath, he nodded. Lionel opened the door and the stately procession into the sanctuary began. At the first glimpse of their Pastor Derrick, the congregation rose as one to their feet: clapping, shouting, and praising God. As the others took their seats, Derrick continued to the podium where he stood and silently acknowledged the crowd. Tears freely flowed down his face as he looked into the eyes of members he’d known for decades and others he’d recently baptized. He nodded an acknowledgment to Lavon and Carla, and those from other ministries who’d come to show their support of this—his triumphant return. After a couple minutes, Derrick held up his hands to quiet the crowd. But they only cheered louder, their joy at seeing God’s grace and mercy lasting almost five full minutes, lasting until KCCC’s minister of music, Darius Crenshaw, began striking melodious chords on the keyboard, joined by a hauntingly beautiful saxophonist and an alto whose voice sounded straight from heaven’s gate:
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him all creatures here below.
Praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!”
Derrick reached for the microphone. The crowd quieted. Gripping the podium, he closed his eyes and summoned the strength to speak to his flock. If only he could stop the tears of gratitude and joy.
“Take your time, Pastor!” a congregant shouted.
“Hallelujah!” someone yelled.
Not to be outdone, someone from the Mother Board stood and exclaimed, “Thank you, Jesus!”
Derrick turned to the woman who, along with the late Mother Moseley, was a founding member, and one of his oldest. “I do thank Him, Mother Gertrude,” he said with a smile. “I can’t thank Him enough.” He turned to the congregation. “And I can’t thank you enough. Your thoughts, prayers, cards, gifts . . . your love . . . sustained me and my family during this trying time. But I’m here to tell you something. God is able.”
Darius cosigned Derrick’s statement with a keyboard riff. This evoked words of praise from various members, most of whom were still on their feet.
“See, when I was looking for a miracle . . .”
“Yes!” a member shouted. Darius struck a chord.
“And when I was expecting the impossible . . .”
“Bless his name!” And from Darius, a chord one-half note up from the last one.
Derrick took the microphone from its holder. “I began to feel the intangible.”
“My Lord!” Another chord, another half-note up.
“And I began to see the invisible. Oh, y’all don’t hear me now.”
“We hear you, Pastor!”
Derrick crossed his arms, and looked over the congregants, who were beginning to sit down. When almost all had taken their seats, he continued, his voice low, his tone intense. “See, when I heard the diagnosis, that there was a tumor growing in my brain . . . I’ve got to be honest with you, family. There were some dark moments that followed. I felt fear, distress, uncertainty. And when Dr. Black”—Derrick paused to acknowledge the miracle-working doctor who, along with his wife, occupied seats in the front row—“told me that he wanted to cut open my head and take something out...” Derrick shook his head and said as an aside, “My wife might tell you that I didn’t have much in there to begin with.” The audience chuckled while Vivian shook her head in disagreement. “But when the doctors explained
to
me what was going on
with
me, and all of the possible outcomes . . . I saw the lightning flashing, church.”
Yet again, Darius cosigned with a B-flat minor while the drummer ran his fingers along his silver chimes. And yet again, members rose to their feet.
“And I heard the thunder roar.”
An associate minister took a step forward, as if to swipe Derrick with a large, white handkerchief. “Preach, Preacher!”
“I felt the breakers dashing, trying to conquer my soul. But—” Derrick held up his hand. “How many of y’all know that where the enemy puts a ‘block,’ God will put a ‘but’?” Church members waved their hands and shouted their agreement. “But I heard the voice of Jesus telling me still to fight on. And he told me something else.”
“What’d he tell you, Pastor?” the oldest associate minister queried.
Derrick turned to him and answered. “Reverend McKinley, he promised never to leave me. That he would never leave me alone.” And then back to the crowd, “No, never alone! Praise His Holy name today. God said I might go through a test, but I stand here today with a testimony!”

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