Journey To Redemption

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I didn’t leave when Momma left. Me and LJ stayed. There is an arrogance in small churches. An arrogance mixed with a cruel ideology. The belief that no other church is right or is teaching God’s word correctly. LJ and I were essential members of the congregation; I was the devotional leader and he played the drums. We were a small congregation of thirty and somehow we thought that all of Heaven belonged to us…ONLY! Even though eight years had passed, I was still young and naive. I believed every word out of Prangles mouth. Pastor Prangles’ cult-like ministry constantly reminded us that “No one teaches the truth like I am” or “If you leave this church you are gonna fall and everything you touch will fail.”

Trueway Church was a stronghold of intimidation that trapped and misled the young, hurt, broken or lonely. Every member encompassed one of those features. My brother LJ and I embodied those characteristics. We were broken, searching for a father figure. Our desire to feel a father’s love blinded us to the effects of that venomous ministry. Prangles knew that and he seized every opportunity to play on our self-doubts and insecurities. He gave us titles and jobs. LJ played the drums and I was Deacon Terrell. I was the church trustee and Youth Sunday school teacher. I was also the pastor’s armor bearer and scripture reader in church. Not only that, but I was the guy they called when he wanted to get the “Holy Ghost party” started.

I stood about 5’10’’ in height and was built like a Sumo wrestler. My midsection refused to stay above my belt line, spilling over into my lap. I had skin the color of soft brown leather and two dimples that pressed deep into my cheeks. Chestnut brown eyes and thick brows and lashes made my round face stand out. My self-esteem was low because of my weight but I didn’t know it.

I was 18 when I met Tanya at Trueway church. She was the best singer in the choir. That made me feel important. I was filled with vanity and pride. Tanya was the first woman that showed real interest in me, and I latched onto her. She wasn’t a gorgeous woman, but she had pretty features. Tanya was 5’4’’ with big, round brown eyes. Her voice and her apple ass were her greatest assets. She had small adolescent t**s and a thick midsection that made her breasts seem even smaller. She was raised in the church…the old-school church. The kind that wore skirts below the knees. She had dark brown skin, a shade lighter than brown autumn leaves. She wore her hair in a French roll that made her look older than she was.

I was attracted to her because she was attracted to me. I had learned how to look like a Christian, talk like a Christian, and even dance like a Christian. I could hold a conversation with any minister and quote scriptures off the top of my head. I was never real about it. I enjoyed the attention and allowed it to change who I was. I had forgotten the core values that my mom had instilled in me. Pride, vanity and regular church girl p***y will do that to you.

My ego and my p***s were the guiding forces in my decision to stay at Trueway Church. Momma’s eyes were opened to the con of the Pastor, but I wasn’t convinced. I listened to his ungodly bullshit. I listened to him say that Momma was weak. I even convinced myself that she was wrong for leaving. I knew my mother hadn’t lost faith, but I was caught up in my new position in the church. I was young, naïve, and I was a Deacon.

Often in small churches, we equate titles to closeness with God. I was just plain stupid. I was the typical young adult with hormones. A few times those hormones got the best of me and that young, talented choir singer. She conceived a child, and in my distress and embarrassment to try and keep it hidden, I asked her to terminate the pregnancy. The frustration and stress of not wanting the church to know that we were sinners caused us both to agree that an abortion was the best solution. I had looked down my nose at so many folks, and now here I was covering up my own mess hoping not to be exposed. Tanya’s conscience was heavy. She felt an urge to testify about her ordeal. She confessed to “our” sins in a long drawn out tearful soliloquy during testimony service.

In small churches in the south, there is a moment called testimony service. I always hated testimony service. I never understood how talking openly to sinners about their sins made them less sinful.

Church folk have a confusing habit when it comes to sharing testimonies. They tend to prefer telling dramatic stories about dark, reckless pasts turned around in a sudden moment just to grab the attention of the crowd and stir their emotions. Church folks are the best actors. They read the crowd, waiting for that climactic moment to tell of God pulling them up from the lowest moment.

“And that’s when God stepped in right on time.”

A swell of emotion brought other church folk to their feet, dancing and congratulating for believing in God and for telling your business to judgmental, gossiping ears and eyes. The more dramatic the story, the better.

At Trueway Church there seemed to be an obsession with sensational testimonies. There was a hunger for the juiciest story or gossip. This hunger was what propelled church folk to tell their stories, ending them with a “this changes everything” moment and “because I openly told you all my business, I’m all better.” I have sat through hundreds of so called “testimony services” and said to myself, “Now you know that s**t didn’t happen like that” or “that n***o knows he is lying.”

I had to leave Trueway Church to understand that struggle is a reality. Temptation is a reality. Failure is a reality, even for those who are actively walking with Christ.

But that wasn’t the way of Pastors Rudders Prangles. According to him, God was perfect, and we should be perfect. Anything less than perfection was ungodly. It was a hard life. No one can be mistake free. And after Tanya’s confession, he latched hold to her testimony and in all self-righteous glory, proceeded to bring down condemnation on me as a sinner. He walked through the bible, twisting the scriptures to promote his own agenda of marriage and of filling his congregation.

“Adam knew Eve, and she did conceive. Genesis 4.”

“King David knew Bathsheba, and she did conceive. II Samuel 11.”

“And Deacon Terrell knew Tanya, so he must do the right thing.”

I sat there Sunday after Sunday hearing the same thing over and over. I finally consented to marrying her. The church went through the same routine of shouting and jumping. I sat there, feeling that something was wrong. The pressure to do what this man said was overwhelming. The pressure to do what the Pastor said was an unbearable stronghold. My mind told me to flee, but my heart wouldn’t allow me to. He assured me that I was doing what God wanted. He assured me that I was doing the will of The Almighty. He assured me that I would be blessed. And because of all these assurances, I followed his plan. On July 17, 1999, I married Tanya at the age of 24 off the word of my pastor.