The Veil (8 page)

“You've given me more than enough. How did you know I was a minister?”

He smiled, reached into his wallet, and pulled out a card. “Here's our card. Stop by and see us at the church while you're in South Carolina.”

Misha watched as they walked arm in arm into the hotel, each one holding several bags in their free hand. How in the world did he know she was a minister? Was it the way she carried herself? She didn't remember telling Pastor Dee.
Maybe he has the gift too.
She felt like running after him. She needed someone to explain what was going on with her now. Would he respond to a letter? Would he take her phone call? She shook her head. For goodness' sake, he was a nationally known preacher. He preached big conferences and filled the sanctuaries of some of the biggest churches in the world. He didn't have time for her and her problems. Her only option was to trust God. He would show her the way.

Misha arrived home after spending a week on Daufuskie Island. She finally had time to relax and read the book Judy had given her. Although it was interesting, it was tough reading while she relaxed on the secluded beach. It was peaceful and she didn't have to worry about Roger watching everything that went into her mouth and warning her about diabetes, heart trouble, and getting fat. Just being alone with no problems or work was refreshing.

She looked at her answering machine and noticed she had a number of phone messages. There was a reminder from someone at St. Paul about her speaking on their women's day program next Sunday. “Yes!” she said as she listened to the message. They still believed in her, even with all the rumors being spread about her around town. Someone told her Bishop Moore told the member churches of the Urban Ministerial Society not to let her preach because she was trouble. However, when he did that, God opened up the doors of other churches and allowed her to deliver the Word. She was winning without trying. She had a week to get ready for her sermon. She wanted to make a good impression. She wanted a return invitation.

During the week, she prepared for her sermon, studying for hours. The following Sunday, Judy and her children went with her to St. Paul. Her mother and grandmother met them at the church. Her mother was wearing a white suit to go along with the theme of the day: one hundred women in white marching for Christ.

Misha wore the white suit she purchased at the mall during her shopping trip with Pastor Fuller. She felt confident and positive as she walked into the church.

As the service progressed, Misha became increasingly nervous. Her legs were shaking, her palms were sweaty and the urge to run filled her. All week she had practiced her sermon. She had anticipated where the congregation would clap, say amen, and stand. She wanted to move the worshippers like Shante Patrick.

The women in the church created a sea of white throughout the sanctuary. Misha glanced to her left and could not help but notice a young lady sitting quietly at the end of a pew near the center of the church.
Tell her it's not so,
Misha could hear in her spirit as she looked deeply into the eyes of the young lady. She could feel the young lady's pain. She began to have a severe pain in her stomach. She took her hand and placed it on her stomach. It was probably nerves, but the pain would not go away. She continued to hold her stomach as she stood to the pulpit to preach.

Misha's sermon was not turning out like she anticipated. Where she thought people should have been standing, no one stood. When she anticipated people would say amen, no one said a word. As she continued to preach, her anxiety increased. So she decided to walk the aisle of the church like she saw Shante Patrick do. She was nearing the end of her sermon when she walked near the young lady. Their eyes met. She remembered what she had heard earlier in her spirit.

Misha ignored the voice in her spirit. She wanted to do something to move the congregation and she knew she heard the voice of God say to tell the young lady it wasn't so.

She began the close of her sermon as she walked back toward the pulpit.
Ask the pastor if you can pray.
Once again she ignored the voice in her spirit as she asked the congregation to stand. She stood on the floor in front of the communion table and spoke about healing and deliverance. She noticed the young lady crying. She asked her to come to the front.

“God said it's not so.” She addressed the young lady as she placed her hand on the woman's stomach. The woman became limp and began to cry loudly. “God said it's not so.” Two ushers ran to hold the young lady up. “Be healed in the name of Jesus.” The young lady's limp body fell into the arms of the waiting usher. Misha felt such a sense of accomplishment as she walked the floor continuing her altar call.

People began to run to the altar. Misha helped herself to pray for a few more people and was thrilled when they passed out. Without doing a corporate prayer, she ended her sermon and altar call by handing the microphone to the pastor, who was standing at the edge of the pulpit watching her. She sat down and thanked God for using her that day to bring deliverance to so many people.

After service, the pastor asked her to meet with him in his office. As she tried to make her way to the pastor's office, a woman stopped her and told her they didn't believe in that kind of stuff at their church and she would make sure she didn't preach there again. Offended, Misha walked into the pastor's office.

“Minister Holloway, close the door. Here's your money,” he said, throwing the envelope at her. Her arms flew out, catching it midair. Now she knew why his members were so rude.
The oil flows from the head.
“When I talked with Bishop Moore about you, he didn't have anything good to say. But I thought I would give you the benefit of the doubt and let you preach here anyway. But, what I saw here today, I see he was right. He told me you were trouble. I should have listened to him. Now I've got to undo what you did here today.”

“What did I do? I preached what God told me,” Misha said, placing her hand over her heart.

“I didn't have a problem with your sermon. It was what you did after your sermon. You know that girl you called out. She just found out she has stomach cancer.”

“Stomach cancer? I didn't know.”

“I'm sure you didn't. Now I've got to figure out how to handle this mess. You can't preach here anymore and if you come back here, I will personally remove you myself.”

Misha got up and walked out of the office in tears. She thought she had done the right thing. She knew she heard God tell her to tell the young lady it wasn't so. As she walked to the parking lot, the young lady came up to her and thanked her for the encouragement. She had been praying all night for a word about her cancer and she believed God sent her there to give her hope.

As the young lady walked away, Judy walked up to her. “Misha, you did a good job. I've got to go. My husband's flight lands in thirty minutes. I'll call you later.”

She watched as Judy and her children drove off in their SUV. Disappointed and trying to hold back tears, she continued walking in and out of the passing cars clearing the parking lot. She didn't want anyone to see her crying. Before this day, she'd only heard rumors that Bishop Moore was talking about her. Now she had proof. He was saying negative things about her to other pastors and trying to get them to not allow her to preach. Now with what happened at the altar call, she knew it was going to become more difficult for her to find places to preach. Yet, she was confused. She did what the Lord told her and the young lady and the pastor confirmed it. Was that the reason her stomach was hurting before she preached?

She placed her hand on her stomach. It was no longer hurting. Was that the reason she had to lay hands on the young lady's stomach? She didn't know what to think. What did she do that the pastor felt he was going to have to undo?

When she reached her car, her mother informed her she would have to take her grandmother home, and asked her for money. Misha handed her the envelope the pastor gave her. Her mother opened it up, peeped inside, and asked for more.

“More? How much was in there?” Misha took the envelope from her mother and pulled out the money. She counted it. “Twenty dollars?” There in her hand was twenty dollars in one-dollar bills. “There should have been more. Did you see how many people were in there? There were more than twenty people who came to the front to give in the special offering for me. I expected a few hundred dollars.” She had anticipated at least $500. She needed the money to cover some of the items she charged on her credit card during her vacation.

“Well you didn't preach that good. That's why they didn't give you anything.” Her mother walked away and got into her car and drove off.

Disappointed, Misha looked at her grandmother, who was waiting patiently at her car. She unlocked the door and helped her into the car. It was silent in the car as they drove down the busy highway home.

“You was out of order.”

“Grandma, not you too,” Misha said as she continued to drive in the heavy Sunday afternoon traffic.

“You was out of order. Did God tell you to do that?”

“Do what?” Misha tried to look at her grandmother while trying to keep an eye on the rapidly moving traffic.

“Pray for all dem people?”

“God told me to tell that girl ‘it's not so.' I heard Him so clear. I know it was God. I was right. She and the pastor told me she has stomach cancer. I didn't know that when I put my hand on her stomach and prayed for her. I never met the girl before in my life.”

“Did God tell you to do that?”

Misha didn't want to answer her grandmother. She knew God did not tell her to pray for the young lady. He only told her to say “it is not so.”

“Did God tell you?” Her grandmother's voice grew louder and stronger.

“No. I thought . . . well, I thought.”

“Only do what God tells you. It's important that you do exactly what God tells you. Nothing more.”

“But, Grandma, I was right.”

“Was you? What 'bout all those other peoples?” Misha couldn't answer. “You shoulda asked the pastor before you prayed.”

Misha looked over at her. A sinking feeling came into her body. It was the exact same thing she heard. Too embarrassed to admit it to her grandmother, she felt so guilty. She was out of order. She should have listened to the Spirit. Instead, she went for the theatrics in ministry, like she had seen so many other people do. Maybe that was what God was telling them to do, not her. For her, it was pure selfishness. She was learning to follow God's direction to a tee. She prayed for God to forgive her for her disobedience.

“Always remember. Do only what God tells ya. You ain't no Tay Patrick. You Misha Holloway and you have to do it the way God tells you not like anyone else. They have to do it the way God tells them.”

As they continued their journey, Misha's grandmother continued to minister to her about obedience to the voice of the Lord. Although Misha cried, her tears did not have an effect on her grandmother. She continued correcting and teaching her about the gift until they reached her home.

Misha helped her grandmother into the house and watched as she walked to the refrigerator and pulled out the big pitcher of tea she always had and poured two glasses full for them.

“Grandma, I studied and prayed all week for that sermon. Seems like they would've appreciated the sermon, even if I messed up at the end. I felt like a waitress who only received a penny tip after she went above and beyond the call of duty to serve.”

“Don't worry yourself about money. Bible say, ‘Bless the prophet, receive prophet reward.' Dem siddity peoples should have blessed you anyhow. They's pay, sholl will. They's should have blessed the prophet.”

“Grandma, I don't wish bad on anybody.” Misha sipped her tea.

“Me neither. But, that's the Word. Ask God to teach you how to use the gift. He'll show you. Yes, He will. You make mistakes. God know you learning. He forgive your mistake.”

“Grandma, thank you for all you're teaching me. I don't have a pastor to teach me. Reverend Simpson doesn't teach us anything at the church. When I try to talk to him, he acts like he's scared or something. I found out today from the pastor that Bishop Moore is talking about me all over town. I think they're trying to blackball me.”

“Why you worry yourself? Bible say, ‘Touch not my anointed.' Let God handle it. You just do what God tells you and go where He sends you.”

“But, I didn't do anything to Bishop Moore. I don't understand why he's doing this to me. I treat him with respect and I don't talk about him to anyone, especially people who come to me with mess.”

“Lord, child, when you gon' learn? Peoples gon' be peoples. They's say all sorts of things. You just make sure your hands clean.”

“Grandma, what would I do without you? You've taught me more in these past few minutes than any preacher has.”

“Well, my time ain't long. My bones weak. I'm slow now. Not much left of me.”

“Stop talking like that. You've got a few more years on you.”

“Not sure about that. My time ain't long. Done got old. You know that. But I'll help you whiles I here.”

Misha stood up and hugged her grandmother. “I don't know what I would do without you. You're the only one I can talk to.”

“Child, you got the Lord and He hear a whole lot better than me.”

Misha stayed with her grandmother until darkness slipped over the sky. She helped her grandmother get ready for bed, and began her journey home. As she drove through the quiet city streets, she thought about what she learned that day and repented again for her disobedience. She felt so bad. She kept saying to herself that she should have asked the pastor to pray. She repeated this even as she climbed the stairs and entered her apartment. Guilt flowed over her body as she closed the door. She fell on her knees and begged God for forgiveness. Even when she heard
I will honor your prayer
in her spirit, it did not give her comfort.

She thought she must have looked like a fool, trying to be like other female preachers. She vowed not to ever try to preach like other people and only do what God tells her. As she lay on the floor praying, she asked God to forgive her and to remove the spirit of offense she felt that day. She asked God to help her love Bishop Moore unconditionally and vowed never to speak evil about him even though he said negative things about her. She asked God to help her forgive him and when she saw him, help her to treat him like her father in the ministry with respect and honor.