This was the fourth guest pastor in as many weeks since Reverend Robinson had stepped down. And in those four weeks, even though Jeremy still participated in the ministers meetings, even though he still met with the teens in the church, not once had Jeremy been asked to take Reverend Robinson’s place in the pulpit. In fairness to the board, Reverend Lewis hadn’t been asked either; everyone who’d preached on Sundays were visiting pastors. But that was little solace for Jeremy.

“Saints,” Reverend Harwood shouted out. “The Word of God is clear, it is consistent, it is correct and it is our decree.”

“Hallelujah,” so many sang.

“Amen,” others joined them.

I closed my eyes and tucked my chin to my chest. "Lord," I began my prayer in a whisper, "let Jeremy hear Your word. Let him have peace that this is Your will that Reverend Harwood is here today. Guide his steps from this point, taking Jeremy to the best place for him, the place you want him to be.” I paused, then added, “And guide my steps, too, Lord. Amen."

When I opened my eyes, Reverend Harwood was already taking his seat and Jeremy followed. I sat, too, but it took minutes for the fire that the reverend had set in the sanctuary to be extinguished and for everyone to settle in their seats.

I covered Jeremy’s hand with mine, then intertwined our fingers. He inhaled, then exhaled, a sign that I’d calmed him. Now, my next goal...I squeezed his hand and turned to him. When he glanced at me, I smiled. He didn’t. He just turned his eyes back to the altar.

This time, I was the one who took a deep breath in, then breathed out. I had to be patient; preaching at Pilgrim’s Rest meant so much to him and the thought of that made me hold onto Jeremy’s hand tighter.

But he kept his eyes staring straight ahead, his gaze hard on the altar, his lips pressed together. And his leg quivered like he was in the middle of an earthquake. When he took in a deep breath but didn’t release it, I squeezed his hand.

I kept my eyes on the altar, too, not wanting to keep staring at Jeremy. But also, it wasn’t too hard to look at Reverend Harwood. If Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had a twin who was born fifty years later, this man was it. Everything about him was mesmerizing, from his manner to his looks to his deep baritone that reminded me of Reverend Robinson, this man had it all together in the pulpit. Even though he was now sitting down, I imagined that few eyes were on Reverend Lewis, who now stood at the pulpit. All of us — men and women alike — were staring at the guest pastor.

After the offering, Reverend Harwood returned to the pulpit and he asked everyone to stand for the benediction.

I continued to hold on to Jeremy as Reverend Harwood raised his hand and belted out in song, “May the Lord watch between me and thee, while we are absent, one from another. Amen.”