When It All Falls Down Read Free Page A

corner.
    â€œWill you pray with me? Please!” Pastor Lewis is still on his knees begging. It’s a pathetic sight.
    At one point Pastor Lewis commanded a church that has over 10,000 members. He now sits on his knees in need of prayer, a need that I can’t fulfill. I know that God has forgiven Pastor Lewis, but I haven’t and I don’t plan to anytime soon.
    â€œPlease!” Pastor Lewis says again.
    I get up and walk over to Pastor Lewis. I put my hand on his shoulder and say a silent prayer before I head out the door. I leave Pastor Lewis in his office to sob while James Cleveland plays on his stereo. I cannot spend any more time in Detroit. I have a plane to catch and a job to do.

Chapter Two
    I am a man without a church, a minister without a pulpit. I hold no official title at any denomination and that means I answer to no one but God. I am also a man of principle. Sometimes my principles exist in a gray area, but I am a man of principle nonetheless. One of my standards is that I fly first class no matter where I go. Since I spend the majority of my time in the air, I make sure that I am comfortable. Sometimes even when I have the best seat in the house, peace and comfort are elusive.
    As I struggle to adjust my seat, I am anything but comfortable. I should’ve never lowered my standards and allowed my next job to convince me to fly coach. After all, I was doing this church a favor by coming out; a first-class flight is not an unreasonable request.
    From Detroit I head to Houston, Texas. It is a detour from my next stop, but an old friend calls in for a big favor. My friend promises that the job will require no more than a few hours of my time. I have a firm rule that I don’t go anywhere unless my travel has been taken care of and that half of my fee has been paid. My friend went through great lengths to come up with half of my fee and my plane ticket, and his friendship is worth the detour. My body has to switch from the Eastern Time Zone to the Central Time Zone. I find a position in my seat that is somewhat comfortable and close my eyes.
    The battered girl is at the forefront of my mind. A pastor who will go so far as to put his hands on a woman is not a shepherd but a wolf. I don’t make follow-up calls to see how things turn out, but I wonder about the girl and what will become of her life.
    The flight attendant comes by and I order a drink. After a few drinks, my nerves settle. I can’t sleep but what else is new? My job as an independent problem solver is emotionally taxing. I close my eyes because the most I can do is rest my eyes.
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    In the morning, the plane has taxied to the runway. The seatbelt sign goes off and I get up without hesitation. I need to stretch because my back feels stiff, one of the benefits of middle age. The one thing I love about flying is that when I am 30,000 feet in the air, my cell phone doesn’t ring. The one thing I hate about flying is that my body always stiffens up during the course of the flight.
    I grab my bags and I am held up by the passengers in front of me. What is with people who take all day to grab their things and leave? I wish I could leap over them and walk out the door.
    People start to exit the plane and I make my way through the Houston Intercontinental Airport. I haven’t shaved in a week and that is apparent, but my unshaved appearance is offset by my Italian-cut gray suit and white collar shirt. I am a firm believer in wearing a nice suit to work. I am more exhausted than hungry, but I won’t stop to rest nor eat, not until the job is done.
    Outside at the arrival section of the airport, a Lincoln Town Car with the words M OUNT Z ION B APTIST C HURCH on the side door pulls in along the curb. My friend and point man, Deacon Thomas Burt, gets out of the driver side and jogs around the front of the car.
    â€œIt’s been a long time, Nic.” Burt extends his hand.
    â€œToo long, and I wish it were