The Retreat (15 page)

Jamal did not know what to think after that Circle of Power. It seemed more like something out of The Jerry Springer Show than a Christian retreat. With each passing moment, Jamal's reason for being here became more unclear. This weekend was not bringing him closer to a higher truth. There were no revelations that he could take back to his life and declare victory. He could have spent the weekend with Jamir and Chantel.

“Brother Bryant?”

Jamal turned around and saw Pastor Dawkins emerge from the shadows. As always, Pastor Dawkins was in the company of two men.

“Good evening, Pastor,” Jamal greeted him.

“I would say that this has been an eventful weekend so far.” Pastor Dawkins let out a smile.

“I guess.” Jamal did not see anything amusing about the situation.

“Are you okay? You seem weighed down.”

“Honestly, Pastor, I can't lie. I am, and I'm not sure why I'm even here.”

Pastor Dawkins signaled for his armor bearers to leave. “Let's go have a talk in my room, shall we?”

Pastor Dawkins led Jamal down a trail that led to his room. Upon opening the door, he found that the room was filled with up-tempo jazz music that had been left playing on a radio.

“Go ahead and have a seat.” Pastor Dawkins pointed toward a coffee table with a stack of books. After Jamal sat down, Pastor Dawkins walked over to his nightstand and grabbed a bag of trail mix. “Would you like some?”

“No, thank you, Pastor.”

After Pastor devoured a handful of trail mix, he sat down on the edge of his bed. He took off his glasses and placed them behind him. “So you're wondering what are you doing here?”

“I came here with such high expectations, and I can't help but wonder if I am wasting my time. I need God right now to show me the way; otherwise, I'm going to be lost.”

Pastor Dawkins rubbed his head. “I know. After tonight, I wonder if we are doing enough. Is a Super Bowl fellowship and a prayer breakfast enough? Can one weekend out of the year make a lasting change in the life of a man?”

“I don't know. I don't know, Pastor,” Jamal stated.

“In any case, we have to press on. And with good men like yourself, we can build a strong ministry.”

“I'm not good. I slept with my best friend's girl, and, up until this week, I thought that her child was mine.”

“Wow, that truly is what I call ‘strama': stress induced by drama!”

The laughter from both Jamal and Pastor Dawkins eased the tension.

“Tell me about it. I'm waiting for Maury Povich to show up,” Jamal said.

“Well, Jamal, you got caught up in the same set of circumstances a lot of men your age find themselves in. You were too busy thinking with your manhood and not your head. So, I take it that you and your best friend are no longer on speaking terms.”

“Something like that; he was murdered the night I told him about me and her.”

 

Jamal had always admired his pastor for his quick wit and ability to handle some of the most jaw-dropping circumstances with panache, but not even he could handle with ease Jamal's revelations about his fallen comrade.

“Wow, so you've been guilt ridden this entire time?”

Jamal's mind raced back to that night at the club. Maybe, just maybe, if he would have waited to tell Clay, maybe his friend would still be here. Maybe they would have reconciled.

“I mean, I've got a chance to advance my career. To make some real money and set up a better life for myself, but I wonder if I should sacrifice all of that for a kid who's not even my responsibility.”

“Biologically that child may not be yours, but he is your responsibility. He's my responsibility as well. His life will be shaped and molded by the people he encounters. If his only examples of men in his life are a father who was killed in a senseless violent act, and his father's best friend who up and disappeared, then what does that tell him about being a man?”

Pastor Dawkins's words were as heavy as an anvil. Pastor Dawkins leveled Jamal with his moral imperative. “I think that's what the problem is in our community. We have forgotten that our success is intertwined and God will not bless you with a great job just for the sole benefit of you, but for the benefit of the community.”

“I've always been taught that a man takes care of his own.”

“If you look at the Bible, there is a stark contrast between how the world defines a man and how God defines man. I would put my money on God's definition, since God declares that He knew you before you were even formed in your mother's womb.”

Pastor's words lit a fire inside of Jamal. He knew that he had to be responsible and do what was right from God's standpoint.

“Listen, I would love to continue this conversation, but I have a hair appointment.” Pastor Dawkins brushed his hair with his hand.

“Thanks, Pastor.” Jamal left the room and found a reason to go and rescue his prayer partner.

 

After the explosive Circle of Power, Chauncey decided to go for a stroll. He skipped dinner and walked toward the beach. He thought about brother Edwards, and he wished that his brother Henry had been there to hear his testimony. He loved his brother and felt that tough love was a requisite for change, but even Chauncey could not continue to be callous toward Henry. Chauncey pulled out his phone and decided to check his messages.

It seemed automatic for Chauncey to delete not only this message from his sister, but the several subsequent messages that followed from her. He was in the midst of a revival.

Pastor Hughes would be preaching tonight and he did not want to miss a chance to hear him speak. He also wanted to have time to talk to Pastor Dawkins about his selection for the minster's class. Chauncey did not feel like sacrificing anything for his brother at this juncture.

Besides, the doctors were often wrong, and chances were that Henry would still be alive on Sunday when Chauncey got back into town. Instead, Chauncey wanted to go by Pastor Dawkins's room before the evening service. He looked forward to the meeting. To his surprise, Pastor Dawkins was not alone. Will was in the room, cutting Pastor Dawkins's hair.

“Hello, Pastor.” Chauncey closed the door and absorbed the vanilla incense.

Will gave Chauncey a nod as he continued to cut Pastor Dawkins's hair. Pastor Dawkins's room was decked out in maroon drapes and bedspreads. Maroon just so happened to be Chauncey's favorite color. Chauncey did not know whether Will should be present in this meeting.

“How's your brother?” Pastor Dawkins asked Chauncey.

“He's not good. He's dying and unrepentant.”

Pastor Dawkins gave Chauncey an awkward look. His sister made Chauncey feel guilty, but he knew Pastor Dawkins sided with him.

“Why are you here?” Pastor Dawkins asked.

“To get closer to God,” Chauncey said with a nervous laugh.

“I appreciate your desire to get closer to God, but Christianity is about being there for the sick and being your brother's keeper. Your brother needs you more now. You have a strong relationship with the Lord. I know the Lord would understand if you missed the Men's Retreat to be by your brother's side to pray for him.”

Chauncey could not believe the words that came out of Pastor Dawkins's mouth. “With all due respect, I don't want to be there with my brother, Pastor. He has been selfish all his life. He has taken advantage of everyone in his path and now I just can't find a way to be there for him,” Chauncey concluded.

Pastor Dawkins let out a smile that did not ease the tension. “You find a way, the same way God finds a way to forgive you. You have to be willing to forgive, and you do not want the regret of not being there for your brother in the final moments.” Pastor Dawkins paused. “What if your prayer was the one that turned your brother's life around?”

“Pastor, I can't afford to be distracted.”

“Distracted from what?”

“I know God has a calling on my life and that is to preach His word.”

“God has a calling on all of our lives and that is to minister to his people. We accomplish this by showing compassion to those who are in need of the gospel. Until you learn that, I cannot accept you into my minister's class.”

The bottom fell out for Chauncey. The only thing that Chauncey regretted was this moment. He felt like no one was on his side, not even the man who he admired the most. “With all due respect, Pastor, I think you may have been distracted yourself.”

Pastor Dawkins reached his hand up and blocked Will's clippers from continuing to cut his hair. He stood up to allow his massive size to fill the room and dwarf Chauncey. “Distracted? What do you mean I've been distracted?”

Chauncey now felt incredibly foolish for overstepping his bounds, but maybe God was using him to convey a message to his shepherd.

“I'm just saying that we knew that having women here at this event was a distraction. I never thought that you would be caught up in this distraction with that young lady I've seen you with.”

Chauncey's statement provoked Pastor Dawkins to walk toward Chauncey with his eyebrows pointed in an arch. “Make no mistake about it. I have not been distracted this weekend and I've not engaged in any inappropriate conduct. Before you take the speck out my eye you need to remove the beam from yours.”

Pastor Dawkins's words were sharp and they cut to the core of Chauncey's being. It was not possible that Chauncey could feel any lower than he did at that moment. His spine had been ripped out and all he could do was escort himself out of the room.

“I apologize for my words,” Chauncey said before he left the room.

He greeted the cool air and exhaled, hoping to restore some of his decency. He could not believe the betrayal that had just taken place. He knew that God had spoken a destiny in his life. For Pastor Dawkins to deny him God's will made Chauncey question whether he could serve a man who refused to follow God's will.

“Hold up, Chauncey!”

Chauncey turned around and saw Will closing the door behind him.

“Hey, Will, what's up?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for bringing me here this weekend. It takes lots of guts to take a complete stranger and offer him a chance to change his life.”

Chauncey realized that the circumstances surrounding Will's attendance at the Retreat were peculiar at best. The truth was that Chauncey's reason for attending was more self-centered than anything else.

“Don't thank me; thank the Lord that He put me in your path.”

“I don't know how many times I came close to giving up this weekend. Thanks to you and the guys I managed to hang in there. I at least got some kind of peace before I head back.”

“Do me a favor, Will.” Chauncey waited for Will to give him the signal to proceed. “Don't bow down to the circumstances of life. If you think that all you have is what waits for you back at home, then you have surrendered to a mediocre existence. You were meant for more than that.”

Chauncey did not know if the words he spoke were from the spirit or from disgust. All the work he had poured into the ministry, all the devotion Chauncey had shown Pastor Dawkins, only for Chauncey to get rejected in the end.

 

Quincy had seen Will checking his gun earlier. He's lucky everyone agreed not to say anything to anyone about the gun shots. He knew that Will was not straight up and that Chauncey probably found him in the gutter. He opened the drawer where the gun was hidden, underneath a Bible, of all things. A beautiful chrome 9 mm. He occasionally went to the gun range. Firing a couple of rounds felt more therapeutic than prayer.

He placed the barrel of the gun underneath his chin. One bullet and it's lights out. One bullet could send him to heaven, which would make him the envy of every brother at this Retreat. One bullet could also send him to hell. It was a moment that he could never get back.

Quincy closed his eyes, and a tear snuck out of his closed lids. He had made a mess. A collapsed deal and a failed marriage not even a great architect like Quincy could rebuild.

“You've got to face it,” Jamal said from the doorway.

Quincy should have known that God would not have allowed a suicide to occur on His turf.

“I know you think you made a mess of things and that it would be easy to just end it here.” Jamal closed the door and walked toward Quincy, who had turned around with the gun in his hand.

Quincy sat on the bed, and a cold chill enveloped his body. “I wanted revenge, that's why I came here. I couldn't care less about getting closer to God. Now I have my answer. What else is there?” Quincy put the gun on the nightstand and started to pack up his clothes.

“You can't leave,” Jamal said.

“There's no sense in staying. I would offer you a ride, but I get the feeling that you would probably stay,” Quincy said as he removed the clothes from hangers.

“How come you didn't tell me about Karen?”

“That's none of your concern.”

“I'm your prayer partner. I'm supposed to be the one person you can go to about anything, but you didn't want me to think that you didn't have everything together.”

“I did have everything together until God came into the mix.”

The front door sort of hit Jamal in the back. He looked through the crack and saw that it was Will on the other side. Jamal opened the door and let him in.

“On the real, what happened to you was fowl. What you going to do?” Will asked Quincy.

“I'm going home,” Quincy barked.

“Home? So you're going to let him get away with it?”

“A disgraced minister is hardly getting away with anything,” Quincy replied.