Sex in the Sanctuary Read Online Free Page B

intuition told her King was using strike three. She would not be fooled.

Hearing from God
    The hip-hop sounds of gospel artist Tonex blasted out of Hope’s canary yellow Mazda MG as she sped down I–35 on her way to Kansas City, Missouri, to see her cousin and new best friend, Frieda. “You are my personal Jesus,” she crooned along with the hip-hop singer with much enthusiasm and excitement if just a tad bit off-key.
    Hope felt good. Not only was it a sunny March day in the Midwest, but it was also Sunday, her favorite day of the week. Church had been inspiring. Her praise dance troupe, the Angels of Hope, had performed for the first time and had been heartily received. Their performance alone had been a miracle. It had taken much prayer and a private meeting with the highly opposed Mother Bailey before she convinced this tradition-inclined church matron and others that dancing could be holy, not a matter of “branging that devil’s music into ’de Lawd’s house” as Mother Bailey had more than implied. Even so, Hope had choreographed a conservative routine. She’d prayerfully chosen the music, an updated gospel classic,“I Surrender All.” And rather than have too many steps or other dance movements, she’d decided to use her knowledge of sign language and incorporate a large amount of dramatic hand movements and facial expression into the presentation, combining drama with dance. Not only that but she, along with Sistah McCormick and Pastor King, had codeveloped and taught a two-month praise and worship study course for all who would be a part of the dance or drama department so they would understand the difference between performing for the secular world and performing for the Kingdom. They explained how one’s body could be used as an instrument of praise to God.
    All of the instruction and the rehearsing and the fasting and the praying had paid off. The Spirit of God was evident, even tangible, in the church as the group of eight graceful young ladies danced in their flowing white costumes. Tears flowed from a dancer’s eyes as she remembered her own surrender. One dancer’s face reflected joy, another showed serenity, another, reverence. Their bodies moved as one, twirling gracefully. All to thee, my blessed Savior… Their hands reached toward heaven. Audience members stood with their arms raised in worship. They, too, surrendered everything to God. Problems. Pain. Disappointment. Fear. Their voices rose to join the uplifted arms as saints told God their dreams, desires, needs. The final confirmation of acceptance and proof that God was indeed present was when Mother Bailey, who couldn’t fake getting the Holy Ghost if she tried, had stood crying and moaning reverently, “I surrender, Lawd, I surrender!”
    Pastor King’s message was the crème de la crème. “How To Turn Mourning Into Dancing” was a fitting topic, undoubtedly penned with the dancing troupe’s debut in mind. Had he been inspired after watching their rehearsal earlier in the week? Hope thought so. Perhaps God had spoken to him, asHe’d spoken to her. It gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling to think she was on the same page with her pastor because it proved, in her mind, that she was indeed hearing from God.
    Those who tried knew that hearing from God wasn’t always easy. For instance, Hope had been sure she’d heard God say Shawn Edmunds, her former neighbor, first love and boyfriend all through college, was to be her husband. Why else would she have given him anything so precious as her virginity?
     
    It had happened a couple years ago, during the annual convention hosted by Perry Carlson, a leading minister in Tulsa with a “mega-church” of over ten thousand members. The opening services that Monday night had been extraordinary, and both Hope and Shawn were glad they’d been a part of it. Shawn, a talented bass guitar player with dreamy hazel eyes, filled in for the church’s regular guitarist who’d gone on the road. Known