The Truth Is the Light (25 page)

Chapter 57

P
astor Landris had gone by Reverend Walker's office the next day as agreed upon before going in to work at the church. But when he got there, Mrs. Greer told him Reverend Walker was not there. He'd had a family emergency and had been called away out of town. He had asked that they reschedule their appointment upon his return, but Reverend Walker couldn't say exactly
when
that would be. As it turned out, he was gone for five days. His oldest son by his first wife had had a heart attack. They weren't sure whether he was going to make it at first. But by the grace of God, he pulled through.

After Reverend Walker returned, he had such a backlog that he tried to put Pastor Landris off for another week. Pastor Landris wasn't having any of that. He wanted to know what was going on with that cash money he'd received. He couldn't put it in the bank, because if he did, it would trigger paperwork to alert the government, including the IRS, of its existence. Banks were required to report deposits of ten thousand dollars or more. And even though it was cash and he could have broken it up to deposit it, he was sure there was something in place to track folks who tried to game the system this way as well. Besides, he wasn't trying to sneak and do anything. He'd done nothing wrong.

Since he didn't know where the money had come from, he wasn't about to deposit it into his account. But that meant he'd had to put it somewhere in his house. He'd never kept that much cash in his house before. He was thankful they had a wall safe, so he had put it there until he could speak with Reverend Walker about it.

He now had a firm appointment. But when Pastor Landris walked into Reverend Walker's office, he didn't like what he saw.

“What is he doing here?” Pastor Landris asked.

Reverend Walker got to his feet. “You remember Mister Threadgill, don't you?” he said.

“Yeah,” Pastor Landris said as he first shook Reverend Walker's hand, then cautiously shook William Threadgill's.

“Oh, please, call me William,” he said to Pastor Landris, and looked at Reverend Walker as though those instructions were for him as well. “We're all family here. We're all brothers in the Lord. Although I'm not a preacher like the two of you, we're still a part of the same family.”

“Please, Pastor Landris,” Reverend Walker said as he sat back down in his overstuffed burgundy leather chair, “have a seat.”

“I thought you and I were scheduled to meet. I've been trying to get with you for more than a week now. I can wait outside with your secretary until the two of you are finished up.”

“I apologize for not being able to meet with you until now,” Reverend Walker said. “You know how demanding our lives can be as ministers of the gospel. And whether people believe it or not, we still have families and the things that come along with that.”

Pastor Landris remained standing, although Mr. Threadgill had sat back down in his chair, across the desk from Reverend Walker. “How is your son doing?” Pastor Landris asked Reverend Walker. “Your secretary told me he'd had a heart attack.”

“Thank you for asking,” Reverend Walker said, softly tapping together the matching fingers of each hand. “He's doing much better. He's just forty-five and had a heart attack. The doctor said it was his pack-a-day smoking and what he's been eating for most of his life that caused it. I've tried to tell him that his body is the temple of God, but I suppose some folks think they're untouchable and that things like this only happen to other folks. He certainly got his wake-up call, as we all at some point tend to get. I pray he'll make the necessary changes his doctor is prescribing.” Reverend Walker laced his fingers together as he leaned forward.

“As for Mister Threadgill, I invited him, knowing you were going to be here. So if you would . . . please, have a seat.” Reverend Walker smiled and sat back up straight.

“With all due respect to this being your office,” Pastor Landris said, “I've told Mister Threadgill here that I'm not interested in anything he is proposing or cares to discuss. And I don't appreciate you trying to set me up when I've been trying to get with you on another matter. So, I'll just wait outside your office until you two are finished.” Pastor Landris turned around to leave.

“Pastor Landris,” Reverend Walker said, “Mister Threadgill is here because of the money you received: the twenty thousand dollars
cash
presently in your possession.”

Pastor Landris stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around slowly.

“So . . . if you will, Pastor Landris,” Reverend Walker said, “please come and have a seat.”

Pastor Landris came back toward Reverend Walker's desk. “There's no need for me to have a seat. It appears you've answered my question.” Pastor Landris took out the envelope of money from inside his coat pocket and dropped it on the desk in front of William Threadgill. “I'm not interested in receiving anything from you or your elected official for any reason. And if you think I'm for sale or that our church is, then you have another
think
coming. Count it. It's all there.”

Mr. Threadgill picked up the envelope, smiled, then put it back on the desk without counting it. “Impressive, Pastor Landris. I'm impressed. You've actually had this money for over a week and you weren't tempted to use
any
of it?”

“I assure you, Mister Threadgill, had Reverend Walker here been candid with where it had come from in the first place, it never would have left this office
in
my possession. I don't play this kind of game. So whatever the two of you are cooking up or have cooked up, you can leave me out of it.” He nodded. “Good day to you both.”

“Pastor Landris, before you make another hasty decision,” Mr. Threadgill said, “you might want to take a look at these.” He handed Pastor Landris a large, gold-colored envelope.

“There's nothing in there I care to see,” Pastor Landris said.

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Mr. Threadgill said as he pulled out several eight-by-ten glossy photos. “Even if you're not interested, I'm certain the Feds or, at the very least, the media and your congregation might be.” He laid out the photos on Reverend Walker's desk.

Pastor Landris glanced at the top photo. “What is this?” Pastor Landris said, picking up the picture of himself with Reverend Walker handing him the stuffed envelope of cash. He looked at the next picture; it was of him putting the envelope inside his suit jacket. The other photo was of the three of them talking, which appeared to be in a conspiratory manner and had to have been taken when they were outside the office when Mr. Threadgill first approached him.

“What does it look like?” Mr. Threadgill said.

“I know what it
looks
like.” Pastor Landris turned to Reverend Walker. “That whole afternoon was a setup? You weren't trying to reset any buttons between us, as you said; you were trying to get me here so you could produce these pictures to try to blackmail me. The two of you acting as though you'd never really met before. Then getting me back here in your office so you could give me that envelope, making it appear like I was taking a bribe or something while someone else was hiding away, snapping away.”

Mr. Threadgill put the photos back inside the envelope. “Pastor Landris, what I'm asking of the two of you is not anything other preachers aren't doing or haven't done before. And all I'm asking is for you to hear the whole plan out. Think about it, pray about it if you feel led to do that, and if you still can't find a way to say yes to it, then . . . I can't be responsible for what becomes of these photos.”

“But I'm innocent of what these pictures are portraying and you both know it, no matter
how
you might try to twist your unfounded lies,” Pastor Landris said to both men.

Mr. Threadgill scratched his head. “True. But most things are perception, and I can promise you that this looks like something may have been going on. Even if you're able to prove otherwise, think of the public relations hit your name and your church will take while you defend it. And then there will always be those who, no matter what you're able to do, will believe that the rich and famous, once again, have merely manipulated the system to get off the hook. Why put yourself, your family, and your congregation through all of that when it's not necessary and all you really have to do is cooperate.”

“Pastor Landris,” Reverend Walker began, “what they want really doesn't require much from us. It's what we do most of the time anyway. Tell people what we think God is telling us to do, and convince them it's in their best interest to go along with it. That's it. I don't know why you want to make things so difficult, a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Reverend Walker, if you feel okay in doing this, then that's on you. But I'm still not interested, and I'm going to pray for you . . . for both of you.” He looked at them both, alternating his gaze between them.

“I tell you what,” Mr. Threadgill said. “This is a lot to process in a short amount of time. Why don't you think about it, and we'll talk later. In the meantime”—Mr. Threadgill picked up the envelope with the photos and the envelope with the $20,000 and held them both out to Pastor Landris—“you can hang on to these. And believe me, there are plenty more Benjamins where
those
came from.
Plen
-ty. That was merely your down payment.”

Pastor Landris looked at him, then at Reverend Walker. “Thank you, but I believe this concludes my involvement with
either
of you.” He then turned and left Mr. Threadgill holding both envelopes and Reverend Walker holding a look of disdain on his face.

Chapter 58

P
astor Landris went home even madder than he was when he walked out of Reverend Walker's office. He had called Sherry and told her to cancel any appointments he had for the day. Instead of going to the church to work, he'd opted to go back home. It didn't take long for Johnnie Mae to discover he wasn't at work and become worried about him.

Johnnie Mae knew he'd had an appointment with Reverend Walker. She also knew something must have gone terribly wrong if Landris had decided not to come to work and hadn't bothered to call her to tell her what was going on. She told Angela she was going to go home for a little while as well. That only raised suspicion with anyone in the know that something was wrong, for both of them to be away from the church.

Those on staff also knew not to gossip or speculate about what might be going on. They just decided to pray that whatever was happening, God would step into the midst of the situation and take care and control of it.

When Johnnie Mae walked into their bedroom, she found her husband on his knees in front of their bed in prayer. On the bed was a large white envelope with the words
Personal and Private
written on it. She didn't say anything as her husband continued to pray out loud, at times, even in the Spirit. She just quietly went and kneeled down beside him. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She began to pray along with him. He went back to his prayer.

When he'd prayed ten minutes more, Pastor Landris wound it down, ending with his customary, “In Jesus' name, Amen.”

He got up, sat on the bed, and pulled her up—holding her gently in his arms. “What are you doing here?” he said.

“What I'm supposed to be doing, being by your side,” Johnnie Mae said.

“How did you know to come here?”

“I suppose that's what happens when you pray. God dispatches His angels, and they begin working on your behalf. I suppose one of your angels, or perhaps it was the Holy Spirit, directed me to come home.”

He hugged her tighter, gently squeezing her before kissing the top of her hair.

“Talk to me,” Johnnie Mae said. “What's wrong? What's going on?”

Pastor Landris let go of her. “It was a setup. Reverend Walker and this man named William Threadgill set the whole thing up.”

“Is this about that money you wanted to talk to Reverend Walker about?”

“Yes. And when I walked in Reverend Walker's office, there was Mister Threadgill. It turns out he's the source of that twenty thousand dollars I received. It was bribe money or a way for him to blackmail me. I don't know how I would label what the two of them are up to. And quite frankly, I'm not trying to find out. I told both of them I wanted no part of their scheme or any of their plans.”

Johnnie Mae shook her head. “It's sad what's happening these days with preachers and elected officials. Businessmen and preachers making side deals that benefit them, all in the name of the Lord. It's sad. I don't know whether it's arrogance or if these preachers don't actually believe God is going to do anything about their wrongdoing.”

“Well, I think many of them may have done something at one point and gotten away with it. They believe either God doesn't really care about that or that God isn't going to do anything, so they try to get, while the getting is good.” He leaned his head back, then straightened it. “And believe it or not, what's even sadder is that some of them may actually believe what they're doing is right. You know—the end justifies the means. They get the money, help out some of the poor along the way; they did something good with it, so that makes what they've done okay. I don't know. But I know I'm not interested in getting tangled up with anything that even
remotely
gives the
appearance
of evil. I'm not doing it. Not if I can help it.”

“Okay, so you told them you weren't interested, and then what happened?” Johnnie Mae took her husband's hand and weaved her fingers between his.

He looked at her, raised the hand that was now one with hers, and softly kissed her hand. “You know me all too well, don't you?”

“I know there's more to this than you've told me so far. So what are they trying to do to force you into this? Because I know you gave him that money back.”

He smiled, kissing her hand once more. “They have photos of me seemingly taking the money. If I don't agree to play along, they plan to put those photos out there and, most likely, team up together to say I knowingly took a bribe. Forget the fact that I've not put the money in our bank account.”

“Thank God you listened to the Holy Spirit,” Johnnie Mae said. “Anybody else would have deposited that cash if not spent some of it until they learned differently.”

“Yeah, I thank God for ordering my steps. If I had deposited that cash and then given it back, they would likely have said I'd backed out of a deal I'd originally cut with them. I'm sure the two of them, or however many of them there are, are putting their heads together right now prepared to lie and say I took the cash and got cold feet, which is why I gave it back after keeping it for a little over a week,” Pastor Landris said. “Of course, you and I know I would have given it back the following day had I been able to meet with Reverend Walker. But he was off work. And after that, he went out of town—”

“Landris, you don't have to explain any of this to me.”

He smiled. “I suppose I'm rehearsing what I might have to say to the Feds or to someone later when they claim my story doesn't ring true.”

“Well, God knows the truth. And He's the one who really counts.”

“Yeah, but I don't want my name dragged through the mud. I don't want people believing wrong things about me,” Pastor Landris said.

Johnnie Mae laughed. “Landris, people already drag your name through the mud. They're going to talk about you no matter what. All the good you're doing and folks are already saying hateful things about you, about both of us. Well, they talked about Jesus.”

“You're right. Remember in Matthew the eleventh chapter around the eleventh through the nineteenth verses when Jesus was addressing how they talked about John the Baptist as well as Himself?”

“Is that where Jesus was talking about how folks were calling Him a winebibber?”

“Yeah. People had been talking about John the Baptist, saying John came neither eating or drinking because he lived out in the wilderness and ate locust and honey. The people were saying that John had a devil. Then the Son of man came eating and drinking and the people were saying, ‘Behold a man gluttonous, and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners.' But then Jesus said that wisdom is justified of her children.
Justified
here meant vindicated. Those who followed John during his time and teaching and Jesus—their children, so to speak, or disciples as we know them—their decision to listen to this prophet called John and the Messiah named Jesus proved to be well founded. They talked about John and Jesus. Thank you for reminding me of that. I try so hard to walk in a godly way. And when people go out of their way to set you up just to bring you down for their own glorification, I confess, it deeply troubles me.”

“I know,” Johnnie Mae said. “But so far, you've done the right thing. You've prayed about it. Now you just need to listen to how the Spirit of God is leading you and walk therein.”

Pastor Landris gave his wife a quick kiss on her lips. “God must really love me,” he said. “Blessing me with someone like you.” His eyes danced as he spoke. “Oh, I have
got
to be God's favorite, I don't care what anybody else says.” He smiled.

Johnnie Mae shook her head. “I'm sorry to burst your bubble. But I'm God's favorite. Look how He blessed me with you, our beautiful children, and the knowledge that no matter what we're going through, God is right there with us. To know that even though the storm may be tossing the ship to and fro and it may look like we're going to perish, Jesus is onboard. Jesus, Who can speak to the winds and the waves and say, ‘Peace, be still.' Jesus, calling what He desires no matter what things may look like. Teaching us not to focus on or talk about the problem, but to call forth that which we desire, to call those things that be not as though they were.”

“All right now, you're speaking the Word up in this place. Peace, be still,” Pastor Landris said. He picked up the envelope off the bed and stood up. “Peace, be still.” He kissed Johnnie Mae again. “Have I told you that I love you lately?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not since”—she looked up at the ceiling as though the answer were written there—“six o'clock this morning.” She glanced at her watch. “It's almost eleven now.”

He bit down on his lips. “You'd better be glad I'm still on the clock. Otherwise—”

“Okay, Pastor. Let's keep it holy, now.”

“Always,” Pastor Landris said. “Always. Look, the bride of my affections, I have something I need to take care of.” Pastor Landris waved in the air the envelope he'd received many years ago from Reverend Paul “Poppa” Knight with strict instruction to use if necessary. An envelope that contained enough information inside of it to totally shut Reverend Walker down, if he needed to. “Pray for me,” Pastor Landris said.

“Let the Lord order your steps,” Johnnie Mae said to the man she knew who, like David in the Bible, was a man after God's own heart, as he strolled out of the bedroom.

Pastor Landris turned back to look at her. “Always,” he said, blowing her a kiss. “Always.”