As part of the Black Writer’s Program I’m participating in via the NY Writer’s Coalition, each week we’re given a prompt with which to write about. This past week of the five prompts provided I selected the one depicting a scene from church. We were given 30 minutes to write something and then we shared our pieces with the rest of the class. The following is an original work. Enjoy!
In the heart of Atlanta – Sunday school just let out 10 mins ago. Bougie ass, smart mouthed kids running everywhere hurriedly trying to grab some breakfast before the 3+ hour worship service kicks off. Que the Musicians walking in late as usual. Jeans, sun glasses, and bravado in tact. They all head straight to the sanctuary to set up for praise and worship, we used to call it devotion. Not too far behind them were the Praise and Worship team – consisting of the best the LGBTQ community could offer and thee baddest single mothers on earth. From the too tight clothes, pushup everything, costume jewelry, and pointy shoes splattered with sequins and glitter – they did not come to play. If you couldn’t get the word from the message these songs were gonna shake the heathen off yo ass.
Barry on the bass guitar standing 6’3” 198lbs with a very noticeable dick print clearly an expert musician with no ounce of faith or godly relationship in him did understand the assignment that he was the musical director and he needed to curate and cultivate an environment of safety and fellowship. This ain’t the club – it’s one of many houses of worship.
The rest of the musicians took their places and began warming up.
Yolanda, the self proclaimed lead singer, flanked by her merry band of treasured sopranos, altos, baritones, and the clapping band for when the spirit laid us all out – took the mics to start their own warm up riffing off the tunes the musicians were playing. With a light introduction, the singers began to sway in unison and Yolanda began to sing—
Fire fire
Fall on us
Start a new revival
Fire fall on us
As members and guests in the atrium and fellowship halls heard this they wrapped up their meals and conversations and made their way to the sanctuary. Kids made their way to children’s church. Church mothers with the hardest candy ever created made their way to their section and assigned seats decked out in todays color theme – white (young lady can you wear white?).
As the musicians dropped the beat and played the backing instrumentation, Yolanda began —
Acts 2 and 1 says
When the day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all with one accord in one place
And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind
And it filled all the house where they were sittingVerse 4
And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit
And began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utteranceJust like He did it before
How many know we need Him to do it again
Alright here we go
Then Yolanda leaned into the mic and sang encouraging the congregation to join in a call and response vibe —
Just like You did it before
Lord we are ready for more
The temperature started to rise as the heat from each of the bodies in the room started to find each other in a new consuming fire, the lights from the sound stage, and the assumed power of the spirit began to fall freshly on the room.
In walks Pastor Jones a reputable father-figure in his early years immediately followed by an entourage of clergy and security making their way to the pulpit. As he alone climbed each step towards the main stage he mouths the words to the song and wipes his brow. Once he reaches his heavily sculpted and supremely patterned wooden throne, he kneels and offers up a prayer to God. Once finished he takes his seat.
Yolanda brings the song to a close as the spirit takes over certain members in scripted fashion.
Frannie Mae, newly coiffed wig and all, fell abruptly to the floor and began wailing and crying. Nurses and anyone who cared circled around her while she had her fit.
A typical Sunday Morning was in full effect.
cut to me still in bed as my alarm goes off
Bedside Baptist, it is.
