I was unlocking the church this morning and I was in the kitchen making coffee for the congregation. There was a loud knocking on the outer kitchen door. I opened it expecting to see Sister Rosie, who brings food for the breakfast we serve at 9:15AM. It was not Sister Rosie, but it was a short black woman. Before I could say anything, she started in. “Whatcha doing here, white boy? This ain’t cho church!” I defensively replied, “Yes it is.” “Since when?” she wanted to know. “About eight years now.” I told her. “No you ain’t!” she countered. “This here is Vancouver Avenue First Baptist church. It’s a black church. You better get up on outta here white boy. What are you? The janitor?!” “No, I’m a Trustee.” I offered. “You ain’t no Trustee! You can’t trust no white boy!” “Well, I have been here for eight years and I have never seen you here,” I confessed. “That’s cause this ain’t cho church!” she repeated. “Well, I’m going to be a Deacon,” I boasted. “You ain’t no Deacon! Deacon Green’s a Deacon. Get on outta here white boy!” she demanded. I figured there was no sense arguing the point, so I took the church keys and began unlocking the rest of the doors to God’s house. When I finished and returned to the front of the church, the woman was gone. Probably to call the police.
Posted on: Sun, 10 Aug 2014 16:36:30 +0000