Stepping Down Read Online Free

walking outside of the church. He wouldn’t leave his true home
for her.
    As
she made a right onto the busy street, which was partially responsible for
making their six-year-old church such a success, Sharla wondered if she was
wrong for wanting her husband to put her and Amani before the church.
    She’d
been right by Mark’s side when he founded New Vision in a vacated grocery
story. No woman had been a happier helpmate than Sharla when this whole thing
first started. She’d typed up church bulletins, helped clean up after services,
called the visitors and personally invited them to return to New Vision.
    Tears
traveled down Sharla’s cheeks as she made the short trip back home. When she
thought of all the people who had given their lives to Christ at the church’s
altar, a sense of shame enveloped her. The church couldn’t be a bad thing. I’m
being selfish .
    Maybe
she was the bad one. After all, she’d just sat there and imagined strangling
the life out of her own son. And then came another thought—one Sharla
rarely entertained, but nonetheless one that surfaced whenever she
second-guessed her parenting skills.
    Maybe
this is why God didn’t bless me to give birth to a child.

Chapter 4
     
    Rev.
Jackson prompted, “Let the church say…”
    “Aaaaaamen,”
the congregation answered, acknowledging the official benediction.
    Mark
wasn’t too happy about the number of people who’d adjourned themselves early,
walking out of the sanctuary during the final moments of service as the new
members’ names were announced. More and more, people seemed to be leaving when
Mark walked away from the podium—especially the people in the balcony.
They had their nerve, since they’d come late in the first place.
    But
he couldn’t get too upset about their disrespectful behavior when his own son
sat on the second row texting throughout most of the service. Amani knew
better, and he should have been acting better after their talk the other night.
Mark might need to add a little extra muscle to his next lecture. Though Amani
was almost eye-to-eye, physically, Mark might have to resort to “laying hands”
on Amani if he didn’t respond to words.
    “Pastor,
you ready?” Jonathan asked, scooping up Mark’s Bible and tablet from the stand
next to the tallest chair in the pulpit.
    “Yes.
Let’s go.”
    Swiftly,
Jonathan led Mark around the east pathway and back into a smaller meeting room
across from the church’s small bookstore. This was where he met personally with
the first-time visitors nearly every Sunday.
    This
“receiving room” as they called it, had been inexpensively yet classically
decorated by Sharla, with a sparkling chandelier and beveled mirrors on one
side that made the room appear twice its size. Silk flowers adorned each corner
and the tables bearing fruit, and cookie trays sported festive tablecloths.
Members of the hospitality committee served up the snacks with a double-dose of
smiles, hoping to make a positive impression on the visitors.
    Mark
nodded at a few of the prospects from afar while Jonathan performed his weekly
duty. “May I have your attention please?”
    The
room of roughly thirty adults and children quieted as the strangers found
seats, holding food in one hand, plastic cups filled with punch in the other.
    “The
shepherd of this house, Pastor Mark Wayne Carter, III, would like to address
you personally at this time.”
    Applause—first
from the hospitality committee, then the visitors—followed suit. Mark
raised his hand to stop them. Somehow he felt like he was supposed to stop
them. “Thank you. Really, I should be applauding you for coming here
today. It’s always a blessing to see new faces at New Vision church.”
    Mark
paused briefly as one face in particular caught his attention. It was her ,
wearing another tight shirt with her legs crossed and that same strip of skin
on display. Truth be told, Mark really couldn’t remember what she looked like
from the neck up,