Behind the Pulpit: The Memoir of a Pastor’s Wife

By Pasha Harris

As the wife of the pastor of Divine Revelations, which was one of the fastest-growing churches in her city, it seemed like Pasha had it all.

With her husband, she conducted superlative worship services filled with the Holy Spirit. Their church made the couple popular as their house of worship was well known for its music and excellent services.

People saw Pasha and Rick as a united power couple, but they had no idea it was only an image. While they lived in a beautiful home in a pristine, gated community overlooking the city, Rick was competitive, combative, and belittling—in that order.

Most days, especially Sundays, he was verbally abusive, assaulting everyone around him, but reserving most of his bark for Pasha and her son, Loren. As a coping mechanism, she started tuning Rick out and living like a zombie until one day, she decided she needed to make a change.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jan 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781483499291

Book preview

innocent.

Chapter 1

Your Daughters Shall Prophesy

And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will

pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and

your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall

see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.

Acts 2:17

My name was Pasha Morgan Knowall. I married Rick L. Knowall soon after I graduated from the university, although we met in high school when Rick was a new minister. As an adult, Rick was known as a preaching machine, and a son of the gospel. Together, we pastored Divine Revelations, one of the fastest-growing churches in the city. Divine was well known for its music department and events that catered mostly to young adults. Pastors who mentored Rick as a young man could only be proud of what he’d become; given, the Holy Spirit reigned every Sunday during our superlative worship services. In fact, Divine made Rick and me popular.

People saw Rick and me as a united power couple—a loving husband and wife ministry team—at church. They did not know it was only an image. We lived in a beautiful home in a pristine, gated community overlooking the city. It was made for entertainment, with a swimming pool and a large, grassy landscape that looked like a private park. People assumed I was the modern-day housewife with beautiful children attending the best schools, two dogs, multiple fancy cars, and stamped passports. I could admit, from the outside looking in, my life was happy and fabulous. I was the pastor’s wife and the envy of many.

Whenever people weren’t looking, the Rick and Pasha team did not exist. Rick was competitive, combative and belittling. Most of the time that we spent together, Rick was verbally abusive, assaulting everyone around him, but reserving most of his bark for me and our son, Loren, especially on Sundays. At home, as a coping mechanism, I did not talk to Rick and generally tuned him out. Often, I was dismissing him or casting down almost everything he said. I only spoke to our children in Rick’s presence when it was necessary, relinquishing even the joy my voice might bring if he heard it. Occasionally, I slipped up and gave out a dose of my thoughts, but they were usually met with harsh critical words that reminded me to keep my good to myself.

For a long time, I lived like a zombie, just going through the motions. I used a happy mask in front of people, and that was a lie. At some point that lie smothered the life out of me. It simply became unbearable. It was then that I chose to be free and live in the truth; things were not well, and I was not pretending any longer, in the name of Jesus. From that day forward, I lived without Rick, in our home but with our three teenage children, Loren, Mykel, and Dami’Ann, born in that order. In addition, I was already been diagnosed with an auto-immune disease. I was sick long before I filed for divorce, even though there were people that speculated that the divorce caused my illness.

Trust me, it was a difficult decision to separate my family, and I mulled over the concept for more than a year, even though I had a reoccurring dream that seemed to confirm my path. I still remember how satisfying it was to stand in line at the courthouse to request divorce proceedings, thinking I was starting the exodus to my future. I was sadly disappointed when I learned Rick had to be served by any adult, except me, in order to start the process of what should be the end. I was divorcing from a pastor but trying to remain private. Yet, there were only a few options for how I could tell Rick that the divorce papers were filed. I could have him served by the sheriff at the church which was his last known address. Or, someone I knew had to give Rick the papers wherever they saw him, in most cases that meant at the church. Everybody I knew said, I don’t want to be involved. Consequently, it took almost two months from the time I filed the papers until someone was convinced to serve Rick for me.

My heroine, Leiyah Cygnini was the one who finally gave the divorce papers to Rick. I thank God, Leiyah lived and worked down the street from me, and was a close friend and ally over several years. Leiyah was also married to one of Divine’s first church members, Caleb Cygnini. One afternoon while Leiyah and Rick were both visiting, she stood in silence listening to Rick talk while I lay tired and sick in the bed. Leiyah was just like everyone else that was close to me, she did not want to offend the pastor. That day, Leiyah appeared agitated, as if she couldn’t listen to Rick disparage me, and take advantage of my frailty a minute longer.

Rick was intolerable, and he spoke without concern for Leiyah’s presence, Brother Terry wants to know, can Christians join a secret society? So, what is your response to him? he asked.

I responded, I’m in a sorority. I looked at Leiyah and Rick because they knew that. Rick was looking back at me intently. It was puzzling that Rick would ask my spiritual perspective about anything, but especially this. At the time, I did not know what was going on at Divine. I stopped attending all services there the week the divorce papers were filed with the court.

I decided to entertain Rick anyway, I’m in what some people consider a secret society and I joined after I accepted Christ. I paused briefly, I would say, he must be clear about what a secret society really means. I would tell Brother Terry that he shouldn’t join anything that is against his Christian beliefs. As for me, I have not found my sorority to be a conflict with Christ, from the first day I joined.

Rick let out a chuckle and said, Brother Terry would chew you up and spit you out with that response. You aren’t spiritually equipped to answer that question! As usual, Rick managed to land another insult. I wished he’d stopped showing up at my house. Being in Rick’s presence felt like a chore, and the absurdity of his comments just added to the displeasure. As usual, I regretted gracing him with my voice, because every conversation was a debate.

I readjusted myself in the bed, turning towards Leiyah and said, Leiyah, please hand Rick the envelope that’s on my dresser. She knew the divorce papers were there, she picked up the envelope and handed it to Rick and walked out.

Leiyah said, Good-bye Pastor Rick, see you later Pash.

I was shocked, but I yelled behind her, Thank you Leiyah! I appreciated her courage, but she left me alone with Rick so fast, I did not have a chance to prepare.

For sure, Rick would stay around longer to discuss his new purpose for visiting: the divorce papers. Rick enjoyed listening to himself, especially when pretending he wasn’t affected emotionally. It was like he talked out his thoughts, and at the same time he was trying to convince himself, of the lie. I’d lived with Rick a long time and it was easy to tell when he wasn’t being honest. Rick stuttered at the beginning of each lying sentence.

Wha—What is this? He said it as if he were puzzled about what was inside the envelope Leiyah handed to him. I remained silent, staring straight ahead. Rick knew the filed divorce was inside that envelope, and details outlining what we owned and how it should be divided were attached. I managed our business, and I knew everything we owned and how we’d acquired it. Rick also knew what I would ask for and it was fair. Rick simply wanted me to walk away and leave it all, so he was opposed.

We’d talked about separating our property before that day, but it was different because it was for real. Rick stood and changed his tone to a softer, seemingly suggestive voice. That was once he decided to give his thoughts for how we should split things up. I listened as Rick pitched his idea: he should remain in the house with our children, he should keep the church building, and he should run the ministry without me. I noticed that Rick did not mentioned my whereabouts. It was more alarming than the fact that he did not even live in the house, so I did not comprehend how he could remain. Rick lived and worked at the church; we did not miss him, and he did not miss us. Rick’s only concern was each Sunday morning when he explained the whereabouts of his family.

Rick told me that people asked about me, and he acknowledged my illness in every instance, reminding people to pray. Those thoughts made me feel even more fatigued, but I could see Rick standing at the foot of my bed. It was true, I wasn’t well and over time Rick watched my physical decline, yet he refused to pay for our family’s medical plan. I felt stressed in Rick’s presence because he was fine with hypocrisy, and that alone made him a disruption to my peace.

Had I been well, I would have obliged Rick by packing up my things, taking only what was mine, including our children. I hated Rick equally as much as he hated me, and I did not want to talk to him ever again. Divorce was what we both wanted, and I wanted it to happen fast so we could move along and try to become friends again. There was already a fair settlement written that would be the least disruptive for everyone. I wasn’t ever going back to Divine again, so Rick did not have to worry about that. Even though I was ill, I was still the primary caregiver to our children and it only made sense that I would continue to live in the house with them. Loren was away in college and the girls would still attend Divine, with assigned security, of course. All those things were written within the envelope he held in his hand. All Rick needed to do, was to discuss the terms with an attorney and the court would finalize them.

Rick did not care about anything, except what the saints thought of him, and it was exhausting to listen to someone so self-absorbed. I knew from the past that Rick cared about his image, he called it saving face. It was that day, it felt as if he wanted me to die in order to save face about our reality. It was as if he hoped to spare himself the shame of divorce with, until death do us part. It wasn’t hard to add these things together.

Rick continued to speak, as if he’d concluded the best way for him to go forward was for me to not exist. We knew as Christians, we were only supposed to get divorced for abuse or adultery, and we were pastors, so people were going to wonder and speculate about what qualified us for divorce. I think we both knew people were going to assume adultery and make it Rick’s fault first. There would also be some that thought I drove him into another woman’s arms. In all honesty, we owed an explanation to our congregation and the people following our ministry. I felt that telling the truth would have been the path to everyone’s healing, including me, our children and maybe even Rick. I also knew my physical healing would come by releasing all the things I held for so long, only because Rick did not want to live in the truth.

Listening to Rick, I knew I had to end our conversation and put a stop to him visiting me. He was still standing near the foot of my bed looking wearily. He wanted me to see how he pitied my bed ridden state. In a manner that I knew Rick thought was facetious, I told him, I’ll give you the house back in about five years after Dami’Ann graduates. I’m going to move away to a warmer climate. At that moment, those words felt like a dream, so I laughed in my head and I turned over in the bed giving Rick my back, dismissing him from my bedside—along with his cockamamie plan to take everything from me.

Without consciousness, I spoke my future whereabouts into existence. Hindsight is twenty/twenty; that was what my mom used to say. Once things were in the past, they did seem a lot clearer. I initiated my divorce and had that conversation with Rick about five years before I moved away from my hometown. While I was moving, I didn’t consider that I said it first, but I was right where I said I would be. I felt better in the warmer climates, but I didn’t really plan to be alone and far away from everyone I knew. Yet, I was there, and I had to face the facts. My credit score spiraled downward after the home foreclosure. Most of my furniture and personal belongings were in storage because I couldn’t afford to transport anything far. At that time, outside of staying with my best friend Arian and her family, Dami’Ann and I were homeless.

Moving away seemed right. After Dami’Ann graduated from high school, I packed what I could, and moved to a small cottage. It was my new dwelling place. The neighborhood mirrored my previous one, it was a picture perfect, gated, tropical paradise. I met genuine friends immediately, and I learned from the natives to live meagerly in comparison to what I had. I gave whatever the Lord said to the people around me, be it a word, a prayer or a meal, and I was blessed. I went to parties, weddings, funerals, and family reunions with my new friends. Even though I had everything I needed to live, I was alone once Dami’Ann started college, and I yearned for my family.

I wasn’t in my permanent place because my heart was where my children were. I was alone for two reasons, to hear God and heal. The things I experienced took a toll on my body, making my illness harder to manage. The last prophet that spoke to me said I would have peace, and my new place was it. I was available for God without being distracted from what sounded like noise. Each day, I prayed and asked the Lord what he wanted me to do, like the prophet suggested.

Once I gave in and became accustomed to my new life, I traveled by bus to the large markets just like the locals. The bus drove through winding roads filled with potholes. Being a passenger made it easier to distract from my fear of riding alongside cliffs and gullies with depths unknown to man. I gazed out the windows looking at the lush giant leaves along the mountains on one side. On the other, there was a view of the perfect blue ocean that seemed to touch the sky.

The dreamy landscapes reminded me of my real dreams. I remembered the picturesque scenes; it was déjà vu. I was in a place like one of my many rides on what I thought was a train. The dream occurred frequently but I never understood it. In fact, I knew it was prophetic and it lasted for about seven years. As I looked around, I began to believe even more. The more I believed, the less noise I heard. The less noise I heard, the more I was able to see the things around me as relevant.

At home, I put my groceries away and decided to type what I could recall about those mysterious dreams. I sat with my eyes closed with my fingers on the keyboard, stopping occasionally to sip coffee and preview what I wrote. I remembered horrifying events. Even though, I had not had the dream since the night Julian Christian passed away, some things were still vivid; it was like the dreams never stopped.

I walked into the train station. I got on the first train I saw. It was a roller coaster ride going up and down hills, in the dark. In my head, I began to scream! I don’t ride roller coasters! I must have gotten on the wrong train. I was clinching onto the side rails because I’m afraid of heights. I did not want to go up another hill if it meant I would go back down again. The panic in my head became a loud voice, and I began to yell at the train conductor, Where can I get off? The conductor let me off, and I exited the building.

It was cold and dark outside. I was standing on a bridge and I did not want to walk across. I stood, wondering what was on the other side. I turned back to look at the train station because I did not know what to do. Why was I on the bridge, especially at night? Where was my car?

Typing my notes, I could recall the feeling of anxiety. During the time I was having the dream, I couldn’t tell if it gave me anxiety or if anxiety gave me the dream. At one point I even practiced breathing exercises at night before I fell asleep. After all, it was just a dream, except I was haunted by a runaway roller coaster train. I used to think understanding the dream would make it go away. I attempted interpreting them then and couldn’t, and they persisted. Each night, the previous night’s dream became highlights, like previews of a movie. Sometimes I woke up sweating, calling on the name of Jesus. Because of its intensity, I knew the dream meant God was speaking.

I was traveling again, but this time with Rick, Loren, Mykel and Dami’Ann. Together, the five of us were walking across a bridge. As we approached the center, I noticed a man coming towards us. He was smiling and behaving as if he knew us. He stopped to talk to me, but only briefly. He continued his journey walking past us going the opposite direction across the bridge. The man and I connected, but I couldn’t figure out who he was. I lingered on the bridge wondering if I would hear from the man again, because it felt like he had answers to my questions. For a few moments, it seemed like I lost my children. Where were we and what was on the other side of the bridge?

Sitting at my makeshift desk in the dining room, I could still remember waking up from dreams with questions on my heart. I could even recall how I pondered in my real life about the man crossing the bridge after seeing him in the dream the first time. I thought about it for days, trying to figure out who the man was and what he said. I knew he was someone special, but I was more concerned with what he said. I continued to type what I remembered about the dreams.

I traveled on the bridge with my husband and three children again. Right away, it seemed as if I was missing a child. A little girl that looked like me, but she wasn’t one of my children, I was sure I only had three. One moment this little girl was with us and the next, she was gone. I panicked and I was pacing. Oh my God, I lost her, and I traced my steps all the way back home looking for the little girl. I even went underneath the bridge just in case she wondered off. I called out for her. Finally, I saw her with my dad. Her hair was wild, like she’d been playing rough. I was relieved because she was safe. I went back to the bridge to meet up with my family.

Rick, Loren, Mykel and Dami’Ann were right where I left them, on the bridge. Just as I caught up with them, I saw the mystery man again talking to Rick. As soon as I got close, he said a few words and walked away pleasantly. I followed him because I knew he held the key to my life which was information. It seemed like the man was warning me of the demise of my marriage. I thought I heard him say, It was what I said.

I paced with anxiety. I had not told anyone about the things I was going through. Who was this man, how did he know anything about me and what did I say? I watched the man become consumed into a crowd. He turned and waved goodbye to me from across the bridge, and I waved back from the other side. His familiarity was a spiritual pull that made me look for him even after he disappeared into the crowd.

When I turned back around, my family was no longer on the bridge, I was traveling alone. I saw a train station after I crossed the bridge. I walked into the terminal and down an escalator to a train boarding zone. I got on the first train and took a ride to a place that was unknown. After looking around for a few minutes, I boarded the train again to go to the next destination. I looked out the window while the train headed uphill and down again. As the train rode off into the darkness, the ride felt more like a roller coaster again. I clinched, bracing myself for what I believed was coming.

I looked outside the train’s window, and there were beautiful lush mountains and serene views of the ocean. The scene gave me some relief, so I did not have to concentrate on the hills and valleys as the train sped through the journey.

I got off the train at what seemed like a large amusement park at the top of a hill. I looked around and met a lot of people. Later, I returned home using the train going the opposite direction, and just as I suspected, the ride home of mostly downhill swings made my hands sweat. I got off hoping never to return.

I prayed, God, let it end. Yet I was on the train again. I did not want to ride up and down the hills again, Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! God, you know I’m not a thrill seeker. Please give me peace on this journey. I traveled up hills, around curves and down hills, at some point I could hear my panic in my prayer. I took deep breaths with my eyes closed. I thought breathing properly would stop the anxiety. I convinced myself, open your eyes and enjoy everything God has given. Trust God, even in the dark.

I was at the same terminal once again when it was time for me to get off.

For years, I had dreams that made me feel like they were sleepless nights. I could recall how bad I wanted them to stop. I took prescribed medication to help with sleep deprivation, attempting to rest without dreaming. I was ready to come off the roller coaster, but again, night after night, I had that same dream, even with medication. The dream just picked up where it left off, but only after my nightly train ride, of course.

I continued to go over the bridge by myself, and it felt like I was comfortable. I started traveling with a suitcase. I even looked like I was prepared, and I blended in with other travelers. As soon as I crossed over the bridge, I entered the underground railway system. Onto the train again; I selected a seat, and the roller coaster ride began. The train traveled through tunnels, going higher and higher, up and down in the dark. I told myself to relax, That is right, this is God’s will. He will never put more on you than you can bear. I worked hard to convince myself to open my eyes and try to enjoy the experience each time.

At the end of the train ride, I got off, and immediately I walked into the daylight. I could see a combination of familiar cities that attached themselves along one main street. I walked until I found a place I recognized. It was my junior high school. From the outside, the school looked like it did when I attended, except I didn’t have a recollection of the front entrance, because I only saw it once. At the front, I saw a dirt field with a few shrubs; it resembled a hiking trail with off-road vehicle tracks. I ventured up the dirt path occasionally, but I met up with people that directed me back to the street again.

Someone told me my high school sweetheart, Daniel Mikelson was single and looking for me. I knew this was a detour, but I wanted to see him for myself. I went down an unfamiliar street and called out for him in front of a house. He wasn’t there, and I went back to the main road, and I stopped at the corner where things seemed familiar again.

I was back at my junior high school. I walked away from the campus on the south side, and directly across the street there was a familiar baseball field. In center field, there was a large white house that sat alone. It did not physically resemble any place I ever owned, and I did not recognize it as my home by its location. However, when I approached the house, I found myself talking to someone about keeping it.

I visited the house occasionally. Whenever I did visit, I went through the front entrance which faced the side street that was adjacent to the junior high. The house had a bittersweet sensation, and it felt like the first house I ever purchased. I longed for the home in my spirit, but there was something that made the building dysfunctional, even though it looked perfect from the outside. There were walls where I thought they shouldn’t be, so each time I walked through, I changed the décor to compensate for the things I thought were wrong. There was also a large room downstairs in the basement, and it needed a lot of work, but I wasn’t physically capable of doing it. It was a partially finished open space, shaped like an L. The first part included a bed with two-night stands and a dresser, modestly decorated resembling most hotel rooms. The rest of the area was unfinished with cement floors and doors that led to closets. At least two of them had clothes, and some other items, but the other closets were empty. This was the scariest part of the room. It was dark, and there weren’t any outlets. The room made me feel claustrophobic. Whenever I re-visited this part of the house, it seemed like I was only there to prove its existence to those that did not believe.

Walking away from the house, westward from the baseball field, there was a small city. The buildings were tall and close together, and there were a lot of cars parked as well as cars driving. Just up the road, the scenery changed, and it felt more like a major city. There were several lanes on the streets, and they were dirty. The area was noisy, and there were a bunch of small eateries.

Then, I met a man that appeared like an angel to guide me to a café. It was inside the lobby of a hotel. From where I began my walk, the hotel café was just a few blocks away from the junior high, yet it was like another world. The same man gave me instructions to catch the local buses from the hotel back to where I lived.

The first time I caught the bus I was worried I was going to miss my stop, but all the landmarks the man described were just as he said. I got off near my high school, and I walked back towards my house near the junior high school campus. Just beyond a bend, I could see a lion in a large fenced yard; he was roaring and pacing back and forth. He looked upset. I was scared to walk past the lion initially. Somehow, I went to the back of the house to observe him. I was hoping to find him chained. When I saw the lion up close, he looked like our family dog. He had a loud voice, but he was docile. After seeing the dog, each time I could, I checked on him. One day he was gone, and I was pretty sure he died.

The northside of the junior high school felt like an entirely different place. There were rows of small specialty shops, boutiques and spas, bookstores, fabric and home good stores that lined the street. The stores were filled with women both working and consuming. Most of the women wore cultural clothing, and some wore church lady suits with big hats. I did not recognize any of their faces, but I could identify their different spirits because I could hear their thoughts. The women were mean, critical and downright judgmental. I purchased fabrics and other small trinkets while I observed them. They talked among themselves and watched my every move, and some were critical of my wardrobe.

A few blocks down towards the end of the street, there was a large educational facility that I wasn’t familiar with. There were large cement and brick structures like a university. Sometimes I visited classrooms and other times I just walked through the campus. When I was at the school, I stood to observe. Other times I sat with the students encouraging them to do well on their exams. It seems like I was familiar with the students, but I couldn’t make them out as specific people. Other times I did not see anyone I knew.

There was a large parking lot on the back side of the campus, and it was always filled with cars. Sometimes I went through the school just to admire the cars in the parking lot. After a short walk, I turned left and was back at the mall, and transportation depot where I originally got off the train. The train station was encapsulated within the mall.

The mall was the largest I saw. Inside, there were too many stores to identify any of them by name. Some were large with everything from clothes to household items and furniture. I shopped occasionally, but more often I watched others shop and interact. The stores surrounded the central transportation depot. It was huge, filled with moving walkways and escalators leading from one train line to the next. Some entrances led down hallways to waiting rooms where people sat, preparing to get on a ferry boat, a large cruise ship, a train, or a bus.

The ferry boats took up to twenty people at a time across murky water. My feet got wet the first time I caught the ferry. The water covered the first level which seemed to be the main floor. I looked around, and only a few people were standing with me. The rest of them were standing on the chairs around the outer sections of the boat. They must have known the water came inside. The ferry boat took me to a small grassy city. I traveled to this area only two times. It was all flat, and I thought the scenery was dull. I was there for a short stay, but I was looking for an apartment. There were a lot of mosquitos, and that wore my patience. I waited anxiously for the ferry to take me back to the train depot. When I left, I took a good look at the water, it was still murky and this time I stood on a higher level. I assumed I was going home, but the ferry boat let me off in the back yard of my aunt’s house where I met up with my family.

At some point while the dream was recurring, I gave in and just expected to dream:

I took a ride on an elegant cruise ship, and I was expecting someone. It was a man, but I wasn’t sure who he was. I searched the ship but never found anyone I knew. I met people, but I never met the man it seems I was there for. However, while I was leaving the cruise ship, I met an older man that pulled me to the side to tell me something.

He said, Look up in the sky, and you will see many stars, it’s just that some shine brighter than others. I took in his words like wisdom, and I returned to the small city that appeared flat. This time, I saw its beauty, and I found a place to stay to shelter from the mosquitos. I stayed in the place comfortably, but it seemed brief. From that small city I took the ferry boat home. When I got off the ferry, I went back to my aunt’s house.

Again, at the transportation depot, I waited for trains. Even though I feared what was to come, I continued to get on the trains to get to the next area. I went up, down, and around visiting places that I began to recognize. Sometimes I got off, and other times I just passed through. I still hated the anxiety, my stomach was nervous, and my hands were sweaty, but I closed my eyes waiting for the beautiful scenery. The train let me back off in the same place inside the station. I had options. I could travel through corridors to enter other train departures or go out into the city through the mall.

I walked towards a university campus. Just west of the school, I noticed something huge that looked like a circus tent from the outside. Inside, the tent was set up in the form of a theatre. Upon entering, the walkway declined to make the seats in the back higher, allowing the center stage to be seen from all around the large semi-circle. There were bleacher style seats on cement up close, and I preferred sitting in the rear, closest to the exit. I could see the full auditorium, and I watched several people prepping for something on the large stage in the center. It seemed like a grand production. The entire auditorium was dark, yet the area was still significant. Oddly, the people seemed comfortable working in the dark.

I walked through the auditorium a little more each time I visited. Sometimes the people working took their breaks, and they sat in the back talking. I listened to their conversations and I knew the things they spoke about, but they did not see me. I remained silent.

I watched the preparation of the production again and again. Each time it seemed massive. I couldn’t tell what the occasion was, even though I continued to pass through. Each time I ran into different spirits, like catty women. As I examine things a little more carefully, I realize that the area I called a stage was set up for the choir and a pulpit. It made sense; the place was a church. The platform was in the center of the arena with seating all around which is why I thought it was a theatre. The choir stand was directly behind the pulpit, and there were rows of seats behind them.

Initially, when I visited this church, I wanted to sit far away from the pulpit. The services seemed like sporting events. It was cold inside, and that added to my discomfort. I moved around thinking there must be at least one comfortable seat in a church. I tried sitting with people I did not know, but moments later I could feel their spirits again, mostly women. I could hear their thoughts just like I knew mine. They were loud, and I couldn’t concentrate on the words that came from the pulpit.

On the stage, I saw a group of people that I recognized by their spirits. Not only was it a church, but it was Divine Revelations, and Rick was the pastor. However, I was not a member of this church. Some of the people I recognized were ministers, but mainly people that worked closest to Rick and me. I identified each person one by one, and was shocked at who they were, and the hate in their thoughts. Why were their thoughts so foul?

At some point, Dami’Ann joined me at the services, and I thought that was going to make it more comfortable, yet it did not. Finally, it became more apparent that I did not belong at that church, so I made it a point that I would not return.

I traveled to the back side of the mall which looked like an entirely different parish. Even though the place was strange, it felt familiar. I was there looking for a place to live, and I could feel the anxiety in my chest. I was scared and alone. There were only slum apartments. I couldn’t move there! I left and continued looking for a place that was safe. I returned to the