Holy Pandemic

Pastor Quentin Dillard was near the crescendo of his sermon. He stalked the pulpit area like a kingly lion, wiping the sweat that rolled down his forehead with the white towel draped across his shoulder. Roaring in his earpiece microphone, Quentin unleashed the message with the highs and lows of gigantic ocean waves. Oh, he was on fire. He suddenly stopped as he noticed Mother Harriett Marvel slowly making her way down the church's center aisle. She walked with small steps, slightly hunched over like a weight heavier than life was pressing on her shoulders. She appeared to be fighting back tears. Quentin, called Pastor Q by most in his congregation of Greater Faith Temple of Praise, slowly walked down to where Mother Harriett knelt sobbing at the altar. Ushers quickly surrounded her; some gently laid their hands on her back while others flapped funeral home fans in her face. Quentin knelt next to her and turned off his microphone. "What's wrong, Mother Harriett?" "It's my husband, Frank. He's so sick," she whispered, dabbing her eyes with a white handkerchief. Mother Harriett was one church’s older members church, crossing the threshold of 80 several years earlier. She had been involved in many ministries, but her sickness and commitment to caring for her husband of 58 years took her out of the church for a while. She had lost a lot of weight. She moved much slower than she once did, but everyone who had been at Greater Faith for any time knew Mother Harriett and her husband. "He has high blood pressure and diabetes," she said, "and he started coughing a week ago and couldn't stop. Then he had trouble breathing. I had to take him to the hospital; you know he didn't want to go," she smiled, shaking her head. "The doctors told him he had the virus. He's been in the hospital for four days, and we don't have any insurance. I'm so scared. I don't know what to do." Quentin placed his hand on Mother Harriett's frail back as she trembled and cried. It was a sign of compassion parishioners had seen many times from their pastor, who was in his eighth year as the church’s spiritual leader. He took the pastoral duties when his father, Bishop Cornell Dillard, the founder and overseer of Greater Faith, suffered a serious stroke. Greater Faith was one of the largest Pentecostal churches in the city. Quentin turned on his microphone and stood up to address the audience. "Sister Harriett's husband, Brother Frank, is in the hospital, and they don't have health insurance. He has contracted COVID-19 and is very sick, but we're going to pray for his healing right now because we know that prayer changes things." Boisterous amens from the congregation bounced off the ceiling and walls. The organ flared a chord, and Quentin began to pray. Many of the 400 in the sanctuary held their hands toward Mother Harriett as the pastor called on the power of the Holy Ghost to touch and heal Brother Marvel and strengthen her. Cries of "yes, Lord" filled the church as the pastor's prayer rose toward the heavens. When he finished, he hugged Mother Harriett, who managed another smile. She began slowly walking to her seat. "Hold on, Mother Harriett," the pastor said. "We're not finished yet. "He gave his head usher a nod. “Mother Harriett, we are the body of Christ. You're going to leave this church today and tell someone God is still in the miracle-working business.” The people from across the sanctuary yelled, “Amen” and “that's right.” "So, we are going to take an offering." Like a well-oiled machine, the ushers came to the front of the church holding large baskets. Quentin reached into his pocket and pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill. "I'm going to start this offering with one hundred dollars, and I believe at least ten other people here are blessed and have been moved to bless Mother Harriett with the same. Reach into your purses, empty those pockets, and come on up. And God has a special blessing for you." Five men and three women made their way to the front of the church, some bringing cash, others writing checks. One of the assistant pastors handed Quentin a bottle of holy oil. Each person that gave was blessed with the laying on of hands. “Oh, the Holy Ghost is moving right now," Quentin said."God told us to help those in need. Jesus said what you do for the least of these, you do for me. I believe ten people here have $75 to give. I know you didn't plan to give it today. And I know you already gave your tithes, but if you've got it and the Lord is moving in your heart, please come forward. Know that the Lord will bless your sacrifice. Give so the windows of heaven will be open in your lives." This was a traditional way of helping the needy at Greater Faith. Quentin had done it many times, and his father was known to make similar requests. As the offering continued, Quentin called for those who would give $50, $25, and $10. In about twenty minutes, it seemed that everyone in the church had given to this special offering. After a song and a few announcements, the pastor announced they had raised $4,200 for Brother Frank's medical expenses. There was loud applause. "We're too close now," Quentin said. "Mother Harriett is not leaving here with less than $5,000 in her purse. "The organist hit another screeching note. Shouts of praise bounced throughout the sanctuary. Quentin reached into his pocket and pulled out another $100 bill. We only need $700."