“I’ll never forget the day I came to the steps of the old church.”
Dr. Fredrick Ambrose II walks slowly to the pulpit in his crisp purple suit. The man with over sixty-seven years of experience treads with reverence to the clear glass podium. Fred, the senior pastor of Eagle Creek Church, steps softly into the focus of Camera 3 with his watch glaring into Camera 2. The congregation is still ebbing and flowing like a tide from the worship session. His slow gait and calming voice shift the bodies of the swaying congregation from slow rhythmic waves to a focused, open-eyed and votive gaze.
“When I first came to the steps of Eagle Creek Church, I was lost… broken…”
Fred draws closer to the pulpit and the choir begins to sing the chorus of the contemporary worship song again. The rising devotional melody rising radiates through the crowd with a rippling simmer the lyrics again.
“I was lost, broken… down to my core. I didn’t have anywhere else to go…”
Sweat and tears began to fall down his face .
“How many of you realize you don’t have anywhere else to go?”
The crowd either raises their hands or sends up an amen.
“How many of you realize that you are nothing without Him?”
He receives more affirmation from the multitude in a trance of emotional worship. His task is not simple; he is attempting to transition from an emotional high to a mental exercise. Yet he is experienced, and his choir leadership have prepared the congregation well for the transition. After a few more moments of allowing the ripples of emotion to settle into a calming multitude of believers, he begins again.
“Today is a day of remembrance. Today is a very important day for me and the church, as this was the day thirty years ago when I saw the light. I was found on the church steps—the old building, but still I was found. Many of you weren’t around when I was found in my mess, when I was living in death. I know many of you find it hard to believe that I was once a drunkard, a fornicator, and a gambler. But that was me.
“Today was the day that the honorable Dr. Winston Ambrose the First found me in my brokenness. There are some of you who don’t know I was in the Army, and when I got out, my life spiraled down into the gutter. If it was something to destroy my body, I did it. If it was financially unreliable, I tried. If it was sexually available, I did it. Yet, that lifestyle brought me to a rock bottom so deep I needed a way up. When Dr. Ambrose the First found me, I was a husk of a man. But since then, I have been fruitful and multiplied. My testimony is that I stand before you with no debt and no STDs. I stand before you healed and sealed. AMEN?!”
Clapping and cheering ring out. He wipes his face and head again and says, “The word of God says to be fruitful and multiply. Jesus says that you will know them but the fruit they bear. We are to strive to have the fruits of the Spirit. Fruits and their attributes are highlighted throughout the scripture. Why do you think that is? Often, when we think of fruit, we think of how good it tastes or how delicious the juices are, but do we ever take a moment to recognize the purpose of the fruit? When you think of fruit, what image comes to mind? Is it the sweet smell of a melon, or the fresh taste of a strawberry? Or the juice of an orange? Have you ever wondered why these things water your mouth, but when you go apple picking, the apples that have been on the ground too long are no longer appeasing? Our message today is called, ‘Fruit: What is it good for?’”
The large screens on all side of the large sanctuary light up with the sermon title. Fred rubs his shoulder in soreness. The studious ones open their notebooks and write down the title and ready themselves for notes. Fred continues.
“Fruit: What is it good for?”
He unlocks his tablet and begins the message,
“When we hear the word fruit in the spiritual sense, we lean toward an outward sweetness in some shape or form. We attach the word fruit with a reproductive function. This is good, but often we only see a selfish version of it. Fruitful to many has been a sweetness or freshness in one’s own life. Whether it’s the fruits of the spirit, which at times sounds like behavioral correction, in a nice way. Or being fruitful and multiplying; to have kids to continue your name and legacy. Yet, I often find that we only focus on the great qualities of fruitfulness. The final product is what we expect from others, or what we want to receive in our lives.
“But that’s not the process of growth. God doesn’t just give us the final product or make us complete from the start. The seed goes through a process. The purpose of some fruit is to be sweet smelling, to be pleasant to the senses in order to be eaten and go through the digestive process. This is how it spreads. Many of you think you can grow without going through a process. Many of you think you were meant to be planted here and God is calling you somewhere else.”
Fred continues to sweat and says, “Are you feeling it? I am. I’m sweating more than usual.”
The audience affirms with amens and phrases of support. He wipes his head again, takes a drink of water, then continues. He struggles to finish the sermon, but eventually he does, and signals the choir to start the closing song.
After the last lyric, Fred staggers back forward in order to close out the service.
“Are you fulfilling your purpose as fruit? Are you allowing yourself to grow and spread?”
A shuddering breath, then, “Let us pray…”
He holds his chest while praying, and upon “amen” he steps back and walks behind the stage as the choir comes forth. He continues to hold his chest while he walks towards his office. Rachel, his wife and partner since the fateful day her uncle took him into the church, follows him. Her white heels and floral dress match her red hair. One of the earliest interracial couples in the community, they have been through a lot, yet she was the innocent one, while Fred was the one with secrets and a previous life.
Always supportive and dutiful, she notes his erratic behavior, but is unable to comprehend what could be wrong. She rubs his shoulder and asks,
“Are you OK?”
He smiles and holds her hand,
“Yes, I think the workouts from this week are setting in. I just need to sit down for a little bit.”
He keeps hold of her hand as they continue to the office, and once they reach it Junior is waiting. He says,
“Dad that was great. Can we talk about the sermon?”
Fred waves him off,
“Not now.”
“But Dad, I want to know more about it. I want to know how to do that.”
“Junior,” Rachel admonishes , “your father needs some time.”
He shakes his head and sighs, walking away in a subdued adult tantrum. When Fred and Rachel enter the office, they both sit down to relax. Rachel says,
“You know, we can order some food here and stay in.”
Fred smiles, “I would love that, but my stomach still wants that sweet potato pie from Lamaar’s. Also, I need to be around the kids today.”
Rachel’s eyes soften and she rubs his face, “I know, but it wouldn’t be bad to calm down and rest.”
The two sit on the couch for about an hour, allowing the softness and comfort to lull them into a nap. They wake up from a much-needed rest and head to Lamaar’s—a weekly habit after church. They eventually make their way out to the black Cadillac and drive to the restaurant.
When they pull up, Fred holds his chest for a little bit and says,
“Chest is still hurting.”
Rachel rubs his chest and asks, “Are you sure about being around everyone if you feel like this?”
“Honey, I should be fine.”
They walk into the restaurant and sit in their normal seats: He sits at the head of the table with Rachel on his right; then Junior, his first born; Jesse, his daughter who leads the women’s choir; and then the twins, Khalil and Dakota, youngest of the siblings. To his left is Do-Yun Yoo II, the church treasurer and longtime friend. Next to him is his wife, Kim Yoo, with their child, Matthew. The rest of the table is typically arranged in no particular order with some of the other church leaders. This week it’s the associate pastor John Dawn and his family.
Once settled , Fred prays a blessing over the food and then everyone starts their own conversations. When the drinks arrive, Fred takes a few sips of his sweet tea . When he places it down, he begins to feel a stab of pain and clutches his chest. The tightness comes fast and intense, and as the pressure builds so does his grip. Rachel turns to look at him and asks ,
“Honey, are you ok?”
She knows the answer, but still wants his affirmation.The hand on his chest squeezes harder and he answers,
“Yea…h…”
His free arm wraps to hold the left and he tries to catch his breath. Do-Yun asks as well, “Fred, you all right, man?”
Sweat drips from Fred’s forehead and he reaches out to take another sip of his tea, but the dizziness catches up with him and he misses the glass, knocking it to the floor. He looks over to Rachel and says,
“Call…the ambulance .”
Rachel goes into shock and Do-Yun begins dialing as a wave of the crisis crashes over the table. The others look on at him as he begins to collapse in what feels like slow motion. Junior looks on in fear, not knowing how to comprehend the falling of the strongest man he knows. Jesse rushes over to help. Khalil and Dakota run for help from the staff. The rest crowd around him as Rachel tries to hold on to him. He tries to get up from the floor, yet the gravity of pain keeps him from lifting himself and eventually he faints .
Fred wakes up realizing he is not at Lamaar’s. At first fuzzy and dizzy, he begins to notice the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and then takes in the sanitized environment of a hospital. Rachel is holding his hand while Do-Yun sits in a corner of the room, covered in stress. The twins are in the other corner while a large group of shadows in the door’s opaque window and a high density of mumbling inform him of a crowd gathering outside . As he tries to move, Rachel leans over him and Do-Yun comes closer.
“What happened?” He asks.
Rachel says,
“Honey, you had a heart attack. How are you feeling?”
“I feel better, but tired. Where am I?”
“South Creek Hospital.”
Fred lifts his hand, noting the IV, and tries to swallow but feels the dryness in his throat. “I need some water.”
Do-Yun calls for the nurse while Rachel continues to hold his hand with her left , rubbing it soothingly with the right. His mahogany hands and her ivory mixing in concerned touch. They look at each other. Green eyes staring deep into his brown eyes, reflecting the joint fear of losing one another. Tears begin to trickle down Rachel’s face.
He reaches over to wipe them away and says, “I think it’s time we begin to think about retiring. I dream of writing while you knit. The cool lemonade satisfying us in the tropical breeze. Maybe I can teach part-time somewhere so we can— ”
Her interruption is soft but stern,
“Fred don’t play with my emotions. You know I would love nothing more than that.”
Fred looks away, recounting the many times he’s said it, but mentally resolves to make this time the time that he means it.
That’s when Do-Yun interrupts,
“Sir, you have a guest. Security couldn’t stop him from coming in. He insists.”
Fred recognizes Jackson Miller the moment he walked in, tears in his eyes. He rushes to Fred asking frantically,
“Are you okay? Did someone do this to you? What can I do?“
The moment of calmness is swallowed up by Jackson’s anxiety. As he moves in, Rachel mechanically moves aside, knowing and following her role in the ministry, and Fred pulls Jackson close.
The two hug and Fred says,
“Don’t worry, my friend. I am fine. No one did this to me but myself. I am my own suspect.”
Jackson squeezes Fred’s arm and says,
“Man, let me know if you need anything. Once I heard, I came straight over. No one can stop me from getting to you, man. Please let me know if there is anything I can do…We have been through too much for you to just pass away like this.”
Rachel’s curiosity gives her a sharp poke, as this is the first time she’s seen this man. She wants to ask, but the poke is not severe enough to break protocol and ruin the moment.
When the two finish their reunion, Jackson leaves semi-satisfied that his old friend is in good health. Satisfied that he’s awake, but not satisfied with the reason he’s in the hospital in the first place.
Fred looks at Do-Yun, knowing business must be discussed.
Fred calls the twins over,
“It’s nice to see you guys. Where are the other two?”
Khalil says,
“They’re at home, probably sleeping . We’re going to take shifts; they’ll be here tomorrow.”
Fred smiles and kisses both Khalil and Dakota on the forehead, “Go home. Your mother will come back after she freshens up. Thank you for being here.”
Dakota gives him a hug. Khalil does the same, and the two walk over to wait at the door.
Fred turns to Rachel,
“Honey, go home. Freshen up while Do-Yun and I discuss a few things. I’ll be rested when you get back.”
Rachel kisses him before leaving with the children who wave good-bye. Do-Yun sits in the closest chair,
“Fred, how are you feeling?”
Fred smiles and says, “I think it’s time to find the next pastor.”
Do-Yun sighs,
“Are you sure? I know this is hard, but people have come back from worse at older ages.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to die on the pulpit at sixty-eight.”
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
“No, we must begin to ask God for an answer.”
At a diner on the west side of town, Justin Hanson sips a toffee latte with almond milk, watching the news on the small TV. Having just arrived from a trip to Chicago , he gazes at the screen with bland interest. His girlfriend Marge scrolls through her phone, looking for an available Airbnb.
“The beaches were wonderful and I’m glad we were able to take break from the grind of writing and filming.” He says .
Taking another sip, he continues, “I wonder where our next story will come from…”
The waitress brings their oatmeal açaí bowls, and the two calmly eat while reflecting on the trip. When Justin looks up again, he sees the news headline: “Local Pastor Crime Connections?” Nearly spitting out his bite, he manages to swallow before focusing deeply on the TV screen. He asks the waitress to turn the volume up.
“Local pastor of Eagle Creek Sanctuary had a heart attack on Sunday and is in stable condition. Doctors say he should be able to return to work on Friday. But that is not what people are focusing on today. Dr. Fred Ambrose II, senior pastor of Eagle Creek Sanctuary church, was in recovery when he was visited by known crime boss Jackson Miller. His staff tried to stop him, but he was permitted to enter after he said a few words to the church treasurer. He was seen walking into the hospital and allowed to leave unhindered by staff and law enforcement.”
Justin, practically glued to the screen, turns to Marge and says, “I think we have our next documentary.”
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