Chapter Eight

The Bishop squared his shoulders and, in a mighty rumble of a voice, asked his
congregation, "Today, I feel there are those who are called upon by the Lord to testify, to
give witness to the might and mystery of the Holy Spirit as It moves to and though us
all."

The Bishop spoke using trembling interior syllables, as did Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
and many professional preachers, both black and white. This verbal technique does not
work for everyone, some come off sounding like frighten ignorants, sometimes savagely
so. However, as with Dr. King, the combination of the Bishop's deep, baritone voice and
the humility implied by the interior tremble lent his voice a humble majesty he used to
convey the omnipotence and power of the Lord's Word, as spoken by himself.

At this moment, the Bishop said nothing as he gripped the sides of the podium in the
center front of the raised dais that stands square to the congregation. Then, he issued a
guttural sound, something like, "Ummm, ah ummmm, yesss." As his head turned from
side to side, casting his eyes over the entire congregation.

It was a large group, filling the fifteen hundred-seat cathedral to capacity. Most sat still,
some tended to wiggling children, some stood in place swaying in time to the organ
music playing in the background. One or two offered, "Yes Lord," or I feel it too," or
some other such words of encouragement for themselves, their fellow congregants and
the Holy Spirit.

The Bishop held on to his podium of power, continuing to let his eye fall on every nook
and cranny of the assembled crowd. The bishop then turned his head and face to Heaven,
arching his back, still gripping each side of the podium, "Yessssss, Oh Yes my Lord!" the
Bishop boomed, "Yesss, oh yesss my Savior! I can feel you moving through this place,
this Holy, sacred place!" Suddenly, pounding the sides of the podium with both hands he
brought his gaze back to the congregation with a rapid forward motion of his back and
head, "Can you feel IT!" the Bishop demanded pointing a finger and sweeping the
congregation from side to side.

Each man woman and child in that great hall could feel the Bishop's eyes on him, each
could feel the phantom touch of that pointing finger and the multitudes shouted their
cacophonous assent that, "Great God, I feel it!" "Thank you Jesus I feel His hand on me!"
"Hallelujah! Sweet Jesus" "Please Sweet Jesus, save me from my sin!" and many other
shouts and praises as many in the congregation approached physical orgasm in the
collective delight.

"Testify, children of God, Lambs of Jesus, testify!" roared the Bishop once again holding
firm to the podium of power and looking to God for help in encouraging his flock. "Yes,
let the Lord hear your testimony, let Him hear your joy, let Him hear your pain! Bring it
all to the LORD, bring it all and lay it at the foot of his Mighty Altar in Heaven."

The congregation roared back in answer to the Bishop's call. This was an excellent day in
church, It was not every day that the Holy Spirit moved with such power through him and
his congregation. Most Sundays the Bishop could not raise such fervent response. Most
Sundays, the congregation never moved much past affectionate foreplay, this today was a
full throated, forget the neighbors, climax such as comes along once every year or so.

The tumult continued unabated for fifteen minutes until a sizable minority of the
congregation noticed the slight figure of Reuben on the dais off to the left of his father.
Reuben said nothing; he simply stood, swaying rhythmically to the organ's tune and
softly clapping his hands in solidarity with the squirming mass of congregants, waiting
patiently for the uproar to subside.

Those who noticed him began to quiet the crowd, pointing him out and suggesting
Reuben had something to say. Since everyone in the congregation knew something of
Reuben's story and most had devoted many years of prayers to God on Reuben's behalf,
they were eager to hear what, if anything, he had to say.
Reuben, by far the best educated of his family, having received both a bachelor's and
master's degree from Chandler Theological Seminary in Atlanta, never spoke is church,
Reuben never took the pulpit in place of his father as some of his siblings had done from
time to time. He never sang, though he was reputed to have a fine tenor voice no one had
heard since Reuben finished high school.

The congregation drew quite before the Bishop was fully aware of Reuben's presence.
The Bishop turned to face Reuben and was about to speak, to ask his son if he wanted to
offer testimony when Reuben spoke if a firm voice. And, though he did not shout,
Reuben's voice like a fine tenor bell, rang out clearly, projected to the far corners of the
cathedral. "Father, I have come to testify."

"Oh bring it Reuben, bring it all to Jesus!" implored many in the crowd.

Turning his face from his surprised father to face the crowd, Reuben went on, "My
testimony is an apology, a declaration and plea."

"Yes, yes, praise the Lord." Someone offered.

"The apology is to my fathers, my earthly father to whom I have not been obedient and
respectful. Also, to my Heavenly Father, His Son and His Spirit, a Spirit He has released
here amongst us in a most powerful fashion this morning."

Here emotion rekindled and many in the crowd raged their agreement that the Spirit was
strong this morning.

"To both my parents and to our God in three, I can only say that, until recently, maybe
until just a moment ago, I did not get it."

"Oh no, he didn't get it, but he got it now." Someone said as laughter rippled out from
that person through the congregation.

"Yes brother," Reuben said looking at and pointing to the man who made that statement.
"yes sir, I do have it now. Now I understand." This last Reuben said while for the first
time raising his voice. Continuing in his elevated decibel voice, "Praise the Lord, for now
I do understand."

"Praise God!" the Bishop shouted and ran to son engulfing Reuben in an embrace into
which Reuben briefly disappeared from view.

"Praise God!" the congregation shouted as the organ broke into a joyous refrain.

The Apostle, Reuben's mother, wiggled, waddled and walked from her place in the choir
behind the dais to embrace her husband and son. "Oh, sweet Jesus!" she added to the
conversation as the congregation was infused with the joy of the prodigal son returned,
the lost sheep found. The congregation wept with delight, the congregation wailed with
the hope of other lost family members in other families who might be returned. En masse
the congregation gave itself over to the power of the Holy Spirit.

Reuben could be seen saying something to his father and mother. In turn they each
nodded their assent and his mother returned to her place in the choir while the Bishop
took Reuben's arm and gently led him to the podium. The Bishop kissed his son and took
a seat in a chair at the back of the dais, behind the podium.

For a long while Reuben stood quietly beside the podium allowing the congregation to
regain its composure. Once everyone was calm, and most returned to their seats, Reuben
began to speak.

"We often call Christ 'the Lord' yet Christ came to us as a servant. Not just any servant
but our servant, your servant, my servant. Think about that.
When I was very young, I remember going into the house of the white woman the
Apostle Bertha's mother worked for. She was my grandmother and on a few occasions,
my grandmother took me along to work with her." Raising his voice slightly, Reuben
continued, "She was a servant in that home. Sometimes she was called 'the help,'
sometimes she was called 'the maid,' sometimes 'the cook,' sometimes she was the
woman who raised that white woman's children, but… whatever they called her and
whatever they had her doing," here raising his voice yet again, "my grandmother was a
servant in that house.

My grandmother was a servant. There is not a lot of power here on earth in being a
servant. Yet, Jesus came here to be our servant."

"Bring it all to the Lord." Said somebody in the congregation. "Don't hold nothing back,
lay it all at the alter of the Lord." Said someone else.

"Or, is there untold power, unimaginable glory, incomprehensible satisfaction in

service?" Reuben asked his listeners. "Maybe I have just been missing the point."

"Yes sir brother, missing the point," from somewhere in the back of the lower balcony.

"It occurs to me that maybe my whole problem has been looking at service through the
eyes of the master and not the servant. Maybe I just see myself as the master and when
you see yourself as the master, brothers and sisters, you can't see much difference
between a servant and a dog." Again rising his voice, "When you divide all the world into
servants and masters and you think all power rests with the masters, all money with the
masters, all the beautiful people with the masters, you want to be a master and you can't
be happy in service to your fellow man."

"Praise Jesus, praise Him!" someone shouted.

"The truth is, no man is the master of anything on this earth. No man has one thing the
Lord God did not give him. Not one!"

"Sing out brother!" Tell it like it is," came from the congregation.

"If a man has something, anything, a pretty wife, healthy, beautiful children, a fine home,
a fine automobile, a good job, lots of land and money… whatever a man has in this life…
joy, sorrow, happiness, pain, good health, suffering, depression, mania… whatever a man
has in this life he has because God chose to give it to him!"

"Praise God" the congregation shouted.

By now the congregation was getting into the rhythm of Reuben's speech pattern, which
was very different from his father's. Reuben did not allow his interior syllables to
tremble. He spoke to the assemble worshipers as if he was speaking to a small, informal
gathering of friends. He modulated the volume of his voice occasionally but he held them
by modulating the passion of his language using nothing more than verbal inflection.

"Who am I to question what God chooses to give you or any man?"

No one, no one," the congregation agreed, though a little confused.

"But, remember," God's gifts are not just gifts. God's gifts are tests. They are challenges
each of us is tasked with rising above. Make no mistake, a rich man's burden is greater
than a poor man's. Did not Jesus say that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of
a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven? Didn't Jesus Christ say
those very words?"

"Yes, praise God He did say, He did," from off to the left.

"Whatever our specific, personal situation, God is testing us. God is telling us that we are
all one another's servant, rich, poor, black, white, man, woman… we are all servants to
one another. That is the test! We must serve one another to serve the Lord. Did not our
Savior tell us that in as much as you have done it to the least of men, you have done it
unto me? Didn't He say that?"

"HE SAID IT!! HE SAID IT," the congregation affirmed.

Reuben spread his arms wide from his body and, palms down, patted the air in front of
him to settle the crowd. "Yes, He did say that and I just did not get it until a few moments
ago. Until the Holy Spirit moved through this sacred gathering with such force only
minutes ago, I did not get it."

"He missed it, yes he did but the Spirit led him to it, Yes It did," said someone in the
back. "Praise God," said someone in the front.

"I didn't get it. I who have so much, parents who love and care for me, a congregation
that helped raise me and prayed for me when I went astray and nurtured me, I who have
everything could only see what others have, I who have the power of the LORD GOD
ALMIGHTY moving through my parents and my church family on a weekly, no… daily
basis… I, who have all that and more could only see what others have.

I lusted form what others have and assigned no value to what is mine."

"Tell it all Reuben, bring it all to the Lord,"

"I, who have everything plus the greatest gift on all… the chance to be a servant for my
fellow man,"

OH, GREAT GOD AMIGHTY" shouted more than a few.

"I just didn't get it, I didn't understand. I just could see it. I could see it until a moment
ago. As the great song says. '…I was blind but now I see."
"PRAISE GOD, PRAISE GOD," shouted one, "He was blind, he was blind," sang out
from the far right. "But now he sees, he sees." Came an answer from the left.

At this point the organ player broke into Amazing Grace and the congregation erupted in
a full roar of the first verses. Nothing and nobody was going to deter the singing of at
least one verse, the first one everybody knows, and they stumbled through two or three
more before giving up and going back to shouts and praises.

Raising his voice to a shout, Reuben managed to regain control of the mob. "I told you I
have an apology, a declaration and a plea. The apology is to my parents, to God and to
you for taking too long to see and understand. The declaration is that now I see and now I
understand and the plea is to all you, to my parents and most importantly to God. My plea
is that it not be too late. My plea is that God and this church will find some use for its
servant, Reuben.

Praise God. Amen."

The place just erupted. It was as if every rock star, living and dead had just walked on
stage for an encore. Some people were tearing at their garments, some were falling to
their knees. Some were jumping up and down. Some were wailing and moaning, some
were laughing and crying. Some were screaming and reaching over the lip of the dais
trying to touch the hem of Reuben's pants legs. Some experienced sexual release right
there in the cathedral.

The Bishop and the Apostle were on stage hugging their son. The three of them were
kissing and crying and, at some point, all three, fell to their knees. Reuben, the trained
theologian, the ex-con, the drug addict, the homosexual, had seen the light and come
home. He came home and he brought enormous power and authority with him. Only
twenty-six with no previous preaching experience to his name, Reuben uncorked a
testimony that brought down the house. Here, in the body of this, their youngest boy, was
the franchise for the next generation. Here was a child who could carry on.