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of this great assembly.” Anthony turned to each as he acknowledged them. “And last but not least, I want to give honor to the lady who keeps me going with her words of encouragement and her prayers, my wife, Terri. Won't you stand, baby?”
    Anthony thought how phony his own words sounded to him as Terri Murdock quickly stood, her painted lips arched in a full beauty-pageant smile.
    “And now to the business at hand.” Anthony hesitated. He held on to the lectern with both hands for balance.
    “Proverbs chapter four, verses twenty-six and twenty-seven. This message is for the young people, but I believe that there's a word in this for all of us. The scripture says, ‘Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established. Turn not to the right hand nor to the left: remove thy foot from evil.’]”
    “Yes, Lord!” one of the Mothers shouted.
    “Here are two short verses that give a lifelong message,” he said. “
Webster's Dictionary
tells us that the word ponder means to think deeply about, to carefully consider, to weigh. And what must we be considering and weighing? Let's say it together: ‘the path of thy feet.’] That means that we must be deliberate in our choices. We must carefully think about where our choices will lead us.”
    “My, my, my.” Sister Ethel shook her head.
    “My dear children, my church friends, where are you headed this morning? What path are you on? Where are your feet taking you? You and I must examine the road of our lives. But we can't just stop at considering where we are. No, that's not the last verse in the chapter.”
    The church warmed up again as echoes of “That's right” and “Tell it” and “Amen” bounced off of every wall and out of every corner.
    “See, once we consider our path and make sure that we are established in righteousness, then we must not turn in any way. We have got to get on the right path and we have got to stay on the right path. It's a constant walk. If you find your foot on the wrong path, standing in a place of evil, God's word tells you to remove it!”
    Anthony stopped suddenly, awkwardly.
    “That's okay, son!” one of the older deacons shouted.
    “Preach, boy!” Another one laughed while slapping his knee. Anthony took a slow sip of water, thinking only of the letter hidden in his Bible.
What will they all say?
he wondered.
    He said a quick prayer for strength to continue and picked up his papers again. This time he simply read the rest of his notes, being careful to inflect his voice to a higher pitch every time the audience grew excited. Together, he and the flock of Second Baptist Church of Shepherd Hills finished the sermon. When the invitation was given and the doors of the church were open, salty tears streamed down Anthony's face.
    “Ain't our Jesus sweet?” a lady with a large purple hat dipping over her face shouted from the back row. She stomped both her feet on the padded carpet before jumping out of her seat and wiping the tears from her own eyes.
    “Yes, He is, my sister,” Anthony soberly responded. But only he and Jesus knew exactly why he was crying.
    Pastor Green studied Anthony from where he stood at the far edge of the pulpit. His thumb and forefinger rested on his chin as a wrinkle settled in his forehead. “Father, Father,” he prayed softly.
    “It's time for the benediction, church,” Anthony said with outstretched hands.
    “Hallelujah!” a woman shouted. Tyreeka Oliver turned around to peek over the pew once again. “Bless Jesus!” the woman behind her moaned.
    Terri Murdock drummed her fingers on the passenger seat of her old Mercedes-Benz. She dropped her head into her hands with a heavy sigh as she noted the growing crowd of exiting parishioners surrounding her husband. The church door was only twenty-five feet away from where she sat waiting in the car, but it had already taken him fifteen minutes to travel only three of those feet.
    “You preached today, boy,” she overheard Deacon