Read Online Living Right on Wrong Street by Titus Pollard - Free Book Online Page B

Logan’s family car was a Navigator. Larry appeared to be navigating from the back seat.
    â€œMonica, Fontella tells me that you have a position at Nine Iron Golf,” Larry said.
    â€œI begin in about three weeks,” Monica replied.
    â€œI’m sure I’ll see you there sometime. I have a membership.”
    Job resented the fact Larry felt comfortable enough to bring up topics revolving around luxuries his present salary couldn’t afford. Can we talk about something else? His petition was answered.
    Fontella asked Monica, “What does the Lord Jesus Christ mean in your life?”
    Monica looked over at her with a whitewashed stare. “Huh?”
    Fontella’s eyes sparkled as she let out a small giggle. “It’s the question that our pastor has made a part of the witnessing ministry. It’s the question of our church culture.”
    â€œOh. That’s interesting and different,” Monica responded.
    â€œSo? What does He mean in your life?” She focused in on Monica, seeming to wait for an answer.
    â€œI think God has me and Job on a journey. It’s not an easy one. I just pray and trust in Him. I guess that it’s all we can do,” Monica said.
    Fontella shouted, “Aw girl, testify!” The women slapped a high five.
    Fontella interrogated Job within moments of Monica’s answer, and all eyes were on him. Larry’s face filled the rear view with Fontella twisting in from the front passenger seat. Monica was at his side. There was nowhere to turn, run, walk, or drive away.
    â€œW—well, you know. J-Jesus has showed me some things. God’s all right with me. I love Him,” Job stammered out. He was thankful as the next ten minutes whisked away. That was the length of time he heard silence—before arriving at the church.
    Chapel In The Desert emerged from a strip mall abandoned during a five-year urban renewal that took place in the mid ’90s. The congregation was blessed to have expanded down three blocks on Sun Valley Parkway at Grand Avenue in a suburb of Phoenix called Surprise.
    â€œI guess now you see why we have to be on time for service,” Fontella said.
    Parking was a phenomenal task as cars congregated like a swarm onto the parking lot. People rushed from their vehicles to the entrances labeled Faith , Hope , and Charity .
    In the vestibule, columns of pink Italian marble shaped in Corinthian style lined the hall and towered well above fifty feet overhead. Human-sized floral arrangements of Yucca, Matilija Poppy, and Beavertail Cacti were along the walls with Bird of Paradise trees in an intricate pattern on the floor. Glass encased posters offered picturesque details of the various church ministries. A scrolling message board announced activities and provided scriptures defining why people should worship. Men and women with brisk handshakes and broad smiles were greeting, making sincere attempts not to miss a single person.
    Job looked around at the people and their manner of dress. The wardrobe styles—tees and jeans, pant suits and sandals, casual linen pastels—had him exchanging glances with Monica. He could feel her saying to him You know? We could’ve worn what we had on yesterday and been more in keeping with the people here.
    Monica whispered to Fontella, “You should have told me that the attire is more casual.”
    Fontella responded, “Girl, we don’t pay attention to what you have on.” She patted Monica on the hand. “You’re fine.”
    As they were ushered to seats, Job navigated his eyes forward to the pulpit. A small group of musicians had assembled themselves on an elevated part of the stage that held a physical set-up equaled to that of Frankie Beverly and Maze. They settled in and tuned and cranked up an assortment of songs as mega screens projected lyrics.
    He heard shouting behind him and looked. Young people had filled the aisles waving banners and