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Synopsis
Motivational speaker and best-selling author Vanessa Davis Griggs pens moving tales that mix the stylings of Jan Karon and Terry McMillan. Faith Alexandria Morrell and her two sisters guard a dark secret. Needing direction, they join a local megachurch, where they meet people with problems of their own.
“This inspirational novel leaves the reader eager to know what Griggs plans next for this spiritual family.”—Publishers Weekly
Release date: November 3, 2009
Publisher: Kensington Books
Print pages: 352
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Blessed Trinity
Vanessa Davis Griggs
To the only wise, true and living God—I thank You for choosing me before the foundation of the world to do what I’m doing right now.
To my agent, my publicist, my guide, and in truth, the best ghostwriter around—The Holy Ghost: thank You for being unsurpassed in all of these things and so much more in my life. Just look where You’ve brought me from.
My mother, Josephine Davis, is and always has been my greatest supporter. Mama, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of motherhood. A billion thank-yous wouldn’t make a dent toward all you’ve done for me. I pray I have somehow made you proud. To my father, James Davis Jr., for the pep talks you’ve given me when I needed to know you believed in me and what I’ve been called to do.
My husband, Jeffery; and my children Jeffery Marques, Jeremy Dewayne, and Johnathan LeDavis; daughter-in-law Philicia; and grandchildren Asia and Ashlynn—through the good and the bad, we’ve endured and pressed onward. We are truly a family, through everything, still standing strong. My life has been enriched because of all of you!
To my sister, Danette Dial: thanks for being the special you that you are; my brother, Terence Davis, and sister-in-law, Cameron, (you guys have gone above and beyond when it’s come to supporting me and no, I’ve not forgotten!); my sister, Arlinda Davis, who’s always telling somebody about my books; and my brother, Emmanuel Davis, who appreciates what it takes to write a story—all of you have made this journey called life and the faith we’ve employed in order to do what we do, so much more exciting.
Rosetta Moore: you’re one special sister-friend indeed. To Vanessa L. Rice: you never fail to remind me who I am in the literary world. Thanks to my cousin, Mark Davis, who believed enough in the early days of my doing this to really spread the word (and some books) in the Maryland/D.C. area. Marie Primas-Bradshaw and Vina Lavendar: both of you have blessed me in ways like a mother caring for their own child. Thanks Wanda Lawson for your special thoughtfulness and true desire to bless me by planting a seed in what I’ve been called to do. Zelda Oliver-Miles, Linda H. Jones, Ryan Phillips, and Stephanie Perry Moore: I am so proud to know each of you and to call you fellow authors and friends. You hold a special place in my heart; I wish you the best in whatever you do.
Now comes the hard part. I wish I could name each and every person, every book club, online Web site, bookstore, library, newspaper, magazine, radio and television personality who has touched my life in a positive way. God knows, it hasn’t always been easy. To list everyone would be a book within itself. So to those of you who were kind enough to choose my books and/or reached out to let me know how you were affected by my work; to individuals, book clubs, church organizations, and companies who brought me into your setting or extended an invitation for me and your group to have face-to-face fellowship (like Ella Wells, Ora “Polly” Mathews, Barbara Bryant and The Ladies of Distinction and Ladies Divine Book Club in Raleigh-Durham, NC; Long Branch Baptist Church and Book Club in Greenville, SC; Greater Beallwood Baptist Church and Book Club in Columbus, GA; the Sensational Readers Book Club in Rogersville, AL; Delta Sigma Theta Sorority Birmingham Alumnae, AKA Omicron Omega Chapter, Miles College, Bethel Baptist Church Prime Timer’s in Birmingham, AL to name a few): May God bless you exceedingly, abundantly, above all you can ever ask for or think of!
To those who have e-mailed me, signed my guest book with such positive and encouraging messages, sent letters, called (some of you are quite resourceful), or made a special effort to visit with me when I was in your city: please hear my heart when I say, “You didn’t have to do it but you did, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!” What a blessed dilemma to find myself in—having so many to thank, there’s not room enough to name (or contain) them all. That is so like God.
A special thanks to Stacey N. Barney who—with much love and respect—was responsible for me returning to the published world at this point in my life. I thank you for reaching out to me like you did. To the staff of Dafina Books, I thank you for all the hard work you do. My thanks to Selena James, Editorial Director, and Monica Harris for the wonderful work you both did to ensure my work was polished and an enjoyable experience for the reader. No author (or person) is an island, and I want you to know that your labor is not in vain.
Lastly, to you who have chosen Blessed Trinity: I pray this book blesses you as much as it—and you—have already blessed me. What I do means little without you being there to receive it once it’s done. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And thanks for continuing to help me spread the “Word.” If you like what you read here, then be a blessing to someone else and tell them about it (just don’t tell them too much and ruin their reading experience)!
Vanessa Davis Griggs
www.VanessaDavisGriggs.com
Now Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
(Hebrews 11:1)
Everybody wants to know how I, a nobody from nowhere, became a somebody about to sport the coveted last name of Landris. It just goes to show how people shouldn’t judge another without knowing what’s happening on the inside. And never, ever to underestimate the power of Faith!
Before I get ahead of myself, maybe I should begin at the beginning, since I’ve already told you the end. Don’t you just hate it when people flip to the back of a book and read the end before they even crack the beginning and middle just because they feel they have to know how it ends? Well, that won’t be the case here. The end is officially out, over and done with. Faith wins!
Now we can concentrate on the story, and how I managed to arrive here.
I am Faith. Not Hope—Hope is the timid one. You know, the one who crosses her fingers and wishes for the best. Not Charity. Sweet little Charity, the one who really believes love conquers all, and, if I’m truly honest, has been told she’s the greatest of the three of us. Both of them give up too easily. It’s like they’re not really sure what they want—a bit too wishy-washy for me.
But now me—I know what I want. And as a rule, I generally grab hold like a pit bull until I get it. Not by giving up at the first hint of opposition. Oh, no. You see, Faith recognizes the impossible, yet sees the invisible, and holds fast to the confession. I succeed because I stand by what I want as if I’m entitled to it.
And I am.
That’s why I claimed dear, charming Landris as mine the first time I laid eyes on him. God knows, it should be a sin for any man—let alone a man of God—to be so fine, smart, and good-looking, all swirled into one. Note to God: Needed—an 11th Commandment: Thou shalt not be so tempting.
So I “named it” and “claimed it,” right then and there. The man never stood a chance, not when it came to resisting me. Faith was at work; he was as good as mine.
“You can’t claim somebody else’s man,” Hope said to me when I shared my confession with her. I didn’t want to, but I had to tell someone. “You can’t impose your will over someone else’s. You just can’t!”
Dear Hope—always the practical one. She does have her own desires, but she chooses to live her life cautiously, always hoping. “Just in case it doesn’t work out,” she says, “at least I won’t be too disappointed.” She knows nothing about men, and if I’m honest here, even less about the power of Faith. That’s who I am: Faith Alexandria Morrell, and by tomorrow, the new Mrs. Landris.
From the beginning, it was the three of us: Faith, Hope, and Charity. Like water, steam, and ice—the same, but different. Water—easy and fluid, can flow anywhere, yet it’s strong enough to form a Grand Canyon. Steam—vapor like a spirit, practically invisible, yet leaves undeniable evidence of its existence. Dare I say, able to open, without detection, what some believe to be sealed for good, and create power never imagined probable, let alone possible. Ice—solid, steadfast and firm, can be grasped, handled, touched. Each the same, only a different form.
There’s one thing I would like to clear up here and now: Johnnie Mae Taylor Landris had her hands full even before she met me. There was her mother’s memory problem, and four siblings, three of whom were routinely uncooperative. She had a young daughter to raise within a brand-new marriage plus the demands of a writing career that required her to travel.
Her husband, the Right Reverend (and very handsome) Pastor George Landris, presided over a new ministry growing so fast it was making heads spin, especially for a church in Birmingham, Alabama. Now don’t get me wrong—I’m not putting down Birmingham. It’s just, who would have expected such a phenomenon to take place here? There were people who sold everything and moved from other states just to take part.
Can you blame them? Pastor Landris is a great teacher of the Bible. He definitely knows how to break down the Word of God. He’s unconventional and sure of himself. How else could he wear dreadlocks and get away with it? He’s the type who’ll rarely back down when he believes in something. Pastor Landris is the kind of man of God whom people will literally uproot their lives to follow.
Like Sapphire and Angela Gabriel. Although from what I heard, Miss Angel Gabriel (Angel is what she prefers being called) didn’t originally move from Asheville, North Carolina, to be part of this newfound ministry.
“Actually, I was supposed to be running a radio station,” Angel said with a smile. She and I worked closely on Johnnie Mae and Pastor’s marriage seminar material. We ended up talking, and that’s when I found out some interesting information. It turns out Pastor Landris had supposedly bought that same radio station in a deal that, incidentally, ended up blowing up in several folks’ faces. I’m talking big-time blowup! Of course, most people (including Miss Angel) quietly blame that costly misstep on Thomas, Pastor Landris’s older, yet equally good-looking and, might I add, talented brother.
So when Hope, Charity, and I showed up at the church in 2003 and inserted ourselves in these folks’ lives, things were already crazy. To our credit, we did try to help. And were you to ask Johnnie Mae, she would admit that I really was a blessing. And even if she were to deny it, I was—no…I still am a blessing.
Don’t believe me? Okay, then you be the judge. Man can, and should, plan all he wants, but there are times when God has His own thoughts about the matter.
Romans 8:28 states, “And we know that all things work together for good to them who love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.”
Yes, for good to them who love God and who are called according to His purpose.
And I do love God.
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
(Jeremiah 29:11)
Pastor George Landris watched her as she walked gracefully to the other side of the banquet hall of the church. He couldn’t help but smile; she had that effect on him. She had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. With the passing of time, that belief had only intensified. Knowing it would be inappropriate for him to act on his true impulse, he casually strolled closer.
“I hope you won’t think badly of me for saying this,” Pastor Landris said in a low voice only she could hear, “you are, without a doubt, the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Careful there, Pastor—I happen to be spoken for.” She held up her left hand and wiggled the three diamond rocks that adorned her ring finger.
The two of them were standing near an empty table. Many of the people who had attended the banquet were chatting in groups as they prepared to leave.
Pastor Landris moved in closer and began to whisper softly in her ear. “Well, your man is indeed one blessed man, if I say so myself. Tell me…honestly. What are the chances of the two of us getting together later tonight after this thing is over?” he asked—his deep voice, velvety-smooth. “You know…to talk?”
“To talk, Pastor?” Skepticism laced her voice. “Just to talk?”
“Madam, I am a man of God, and I assure you, where the Lord leads, I have vowed to follow.” He leaned back to be able to admire her better, then began shaking his head. “Mmm-mmm.”
She tried, but failed—she couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, Pastor. You know, it’s hard to say no to someone like you, especially with that irresistible charm. How can one be so good, and yet be so bad at the same time?”
Pastor Landris bit down slightly on his bottom lip and grinned even more. He touched the back of the chair, as though he needed to do something to keep that one hand occupied. “Well, now, Mrs. Landris, I must confess—I have it bad for you. Only for you.”
“Landris, you need to stop,” Johnnie Mae Landris said, fanning at him while trying to keep her voice in check. “You would think after being married for three years—”
“It won’t officially be three years until Wednesday.” He grinned, his eyes again performing a quick scan of her petite body from head to toe as he slowly shook his head.
She smiled at him as he watched her before she swatted him playfully. “I told you, you need to stop.”
“What?” he asked innocently.
“Flirting with me in public.” Johnnie Mae continued to blush. She waved at someone walking out of the door who waved good-bye to her. The crowd that had originally filled the room earlier that night, was now down to a handful.
“But you’re my wife. It’s perfectly acceptable for me to flirt with my wife, isn’t it?” Pastor Landris rubbed his well-trimmed goatee. He looked down at his black patent leather Prada boots before looking back up at her.
“There’s also a time and a place for everything.”
“‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…’”
“Yes, Mr. Walking Bible, and there’s ‘a time to love.’ In a church facility, in front of people, immediately after a lovely banquet given by members and friends of the church, is neither the time nor the place,” Johnnie Mae said as she began to sashay away in her beautiful Prussian-blue, beaded evening gown. She needed to hug a few more people and thank them for their contribution to such an unforgettable evening.
“I suppose this means we have a date for later tonight, then?” he yelled at her, a little louder than he’d intended. Quickly, he looked around to see if anyone had overheard him. His eyes were immediately met by those of a woman who had recently become a member of their congregation.
“Good evening, Pastor Landris.”
“Sister Morrell.”
“Oh, please—I’ve asked you several times to call me Faith. Sister Morrell just sounds so stiff and formal.” She smiled.
“As you prefer—Faith.”
“I just wanted to personally congratulate you and Mrs. Landris on your wedding anniversary.” She pointed to the banner on the back wall that read: September 8, 2001 to 2004—Only The Beginning of Something Beautiful. “Three years is a long time to be with one person.”
“Not really. Not when the ultimate joy will be celebrating our golden anniversary.”
“Then I probably should say that three years would be a long time for me. But I suppose had I been as fortunate as Johnnie Mae to have married someone as wonderful as you—”
“Excuse me, but I believe you have it all wrong.”
A puzzled smile came across her face. “I’m sorry. I have it all wrong?”
“Yes. You see, Johnnie Mae is not the fortunate one here at all—I am,” he said with pride. “I am so blessed to have found such a woman to share my life—three years with her has been more like three minutes. ‘Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord.’ As far as I’m concerned, our happiness together now is merely a small hint of what is yet to come.”
Faith’s face quickly fell. “Oh,” she said, a little disappointed, then recovering her pleasant demeanor. “That is so sweet!” Pure honey seemed to drip from her lips. “You two are blessed! So blessed. Congratulations again.”
“Well, Sister Mor…I mean, Faith. Thank you. I’ll be sure and tell Mrs. Landris.”
“Please do. I was hoping to catch up with her before she left.” She pretended to be earnestly searching, glancing at the few people still chatting in small groups. “I’m sorry we missed each other, but I must be heading home now. My sister, Hope, wasn’t feeling well when I left, and I don’t want her waiting up too late.”
“Your sister is under the weather? I wondered why she hadn’t come to the banquet. Hope worked so tirelessly, helping to put this together.”
“Oh, it’s nothing too serious. She was having some difficulty breathing earlier today. Probably just another one of the panic attacks that she’s been known to have from time to time. Charity is keeping an eye on her until I get back.”
“Please tell Hope we’ll be praying for her speedy recovery. And that she was sorely missed tonight.”
Faith maintained her smile. “Of course. I’ll be sure and tell her. See you tomorrow at services.”
Pastor Landris watched as she left. There was something about Faith and her identical twin sister Hope that really bothered him. He felt sure they loved each other, but something was going on between them. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae arrived home. It had been an enjoyable but long evening. Johnnie Mae had gone upstairs to step out of her evening gown—she loved Prussian blue and hoped to find a daytime dress in that color. Everyone had been so wonderful at the banquet tonight, the congregation having given them a lovely third wedding anniversary celebration. It had indeed been a glorious night, but she was exhausted. Tomorrow was Sunday and the start of yet another long day.
As she briefly closed her eyes, she couldn’t help but reflect on all that had happened over the past few years that had brought them to this place…
And they said one to another, Behold, this dreamer cometh.
(Genesis 37:19)
A few years earlier, Pastor Landris had been relieved of his duties as the pastor of Wings of Grace Faith Ministry Church in Atlanta, Georgia, a congregation that grew from some 37 members to over 4,000 under his leadership. Prior to his dismissal, he was asked to tone down his support of women in ministry. He didn’t.
Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae had just gotten married on September 8 of that year.
Johnnie Mae didn’t immediately relocate to Atlanta, and as it turned out, she never had to. God spoke to Pastor Landris and instructed him to move to Johnnie Mae’s hometown of Birmingham, Alabama, to start anew.
Thomas Landris, Pastor Landris’s older brother, had made a mess of some investments he’d been in charge of on behalf of his brother. Fifteen years earlier, Thomas had invested money in Microsoft stock for both him and his brother. Thomas took his out early; Pastor Landris left his to grow.
And grow it did.
Pastor Landris became a multimillionaire, but when the IRS started looking for its share, he discovered his brother had cashed out the stocks, as Pastor Landris had instructed him to, but invested the money elsewhere without his knowledge or approval.
Thomas did end up recouping some of the lost money, and before Pastor Landris knew it, he was to be the owner of an FM radio station in Birmingham. Pastor Landris received this as further confirmation that he was indeed being led to relocate to the Magic City.
In December, Pastor Landris sold his house, packed his belongings, and moved to Birmingham.
He left without a church requesting him to come as pastor, to a home technically belonging to his wife, along with his brother and a few others who had also made the decision to relocate.
Thomas was to become the general manager of the radio station his brother was in the process of buying. Sapphire Drummond, a therapist, came along from Atlanta because she was dating Thomas, and she wanted a change of scenery. Sapphire and Theresa Jordan, Pastor Landris’s ex-fiancée, had been best friends. Angela Gabriel, who preferred being called Angel, had been hired by the original owners of the radio station previous to the sale. In fact, she had no idea the station was even in the process of being sold when she accepted the job. Her beloved great-grandmother had just died, and this job was a great opportunity for her. She sure didn’t know she had met the potential buyer when Pastor Landris visited her hometown of Asheville, North Carolina, earlier that year.
For Pastor Landris, everything seemed to be falling into place. Surely God was directing this move. But he would soon learn that things aren’t always as they seem. What appears to be God’s will one moment can end up looking totally different once things begin to unfold.
Pastor Landris would come to understand how Joseph the dreamer in the Bible must have felt. Joseph’s father Jacob, later called Israel, loved him so much more than his other children that he made his beloved son the infamous coat of many colors. Joseph dreamed his family would end up bowing to him. He shared this dream with them—an announcement that didn’t go over well with his brothers (or his father at first, for that matter).
“Shalt thou indeed have dominion over us?” Joseph’s brothers and father wanted to know. Of course, they hated Joseph even more for his dreams and for daring to speak those dreams out loud.
Pastor George Edward Landris could definitely relate.
When Pastor Landris needed spiritual encouragement to get through the rough times—as he wrestled with feelings of rejection, being lied to and about—he would find comfort reading Genesis, chapters 37–50, to help him go on.
As with Joseph, Pastor Landris believed God had given him a dream. Somewhere Joseph must have believed God would bring it to pass or else he would have just quit. When Pastor Landris needed a Word to help him, he would think about all Joseph endured before his blessings finally came to pass. He reflected on how Joseph was put in a pit by his own brothers, who had originally planned to kill him. And had it not been for his other brothers, Reuben and Judah, Joseph and his dreams might well have perished.
But God had His hands of protection on Joseph, and Pastor Landris knew God’s hand was also on him. Pastor Landris’s own “preach-brothers” in the ministry were not so happy to see him come to their city. They pretended they were whenever he was around, even as they plotted to get rid of him.
Not to physically kill him, although Pastor Landris wasn’t one hundred percent certain about that at times. But he did realize they wanted to assassinate him—and his dreams—in a spiritual sense.
No one had called Pastor Landris to come to Birmingham. Who could say if he would ever have a congregation again? That paralleled Joseph being thrown in prison. On the plus side, Pastor Landris did have his new family: a wonderful wife in Johnnie Mae, along with her three-year-old daughter, Princess Rose. And there was Thomas and Sapphire, who had followed him to Alabama to lend their assistance.
Things would surely have to get better.
However, Pastor Landris—as did Joseph—would quickly discover that that’s not always the case.
Faith Alexandria Morrell didn’t care about church anymore. She’d had more than her fill of “church folks.” One thing she could never understand was how the church pastor, who constantly hammered other folk about what they should and shouldn’t do, could end up doing that same wrong thing, get caught, and the church would just forgive him and keep him on. It made no sense to her.
“They’re all only human. He’s just a man,” her friend Dominique told her. Faith was still living in New Orleans then. She had questioned why the congregation hadn’t kicked their pastor out on his holier-than-thou, self-righteous tailbone after they caught him messing around with all those women in the church. “Who are we to judge?” Dominique said. “Only God can do that.”
Faith still didn’t get it. She had witnessed him deliver a few sermons from the pulpit, getting the church all emotional as he began to sing and moan. The next thing she knew, hats and shoes were flying all over the place; people’s glasses were landing on the floor or in the pews behind them; men were yanking off suit coats, ties, and jackets and running around, shouting. The women were dancing, unconcerned whether things she didn’t care to see or mention were showing as they jumped or fell down, their dresses, blouses, skirts in disarray. Faith wondered—how holy could this be?
Those who weren’t shouting were running up to the pastor and laying paper money at his feet, which only seemed to make him whoop and holler more.
Faith just did…not…get it. People claimed it was the Holy Spirit that had caused them to act that way, but she knew from scripture that the spirit was subject unto the prophet. She wasn’t a Bible scholar, but that much she did know. This was emotionalism, pure and simple. It was the way they chose to react or express the way they were feeling, which was fine as far as Faith was concerned. She just wished folk would call it what it was and quit acting like they were being uncontrollably possessed or something.
Then this same pastor was caught having affairs with not one, not two, but three ladies in his congregation at the same time. What was worse, his wife was the one who finally caught him on tape. When she brought her audio evidence before the congregation during one Sunday morning’s service, proving he was with this one woman, that caused two other women to pop up mad and argue there was no way this could possibly be true, seeing as he was with “her” exclusively. Talk about angry. They didn’t seem to mind that he was cheating on his wife, but it was a whole other matter when they learned he wasn’t being so faithful to them, either.
The pastor confessed to his loyal congregation a week later. Faith happened to be there that Sunday by special invitation from Dominique. They had front-row seats. He delivered a passionate, tearful plea, begging for forgiveness. He claimed Satan had him bound, using his godly gift of loving others against him. . . .
To my agent, my publicist, my guide, and in truth, the best ghostwriter around—The Holy Ghost: thank You for being unsurpassed in all of these things and so much more in my life. Just look where You’ve brought me from.
My mother, Josephine Davis, is and always has been my greatest supporter. Mama, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of motherhood. A billion thank-yous wouldn’t make a dent toward all you’ve done for me. I pray I have somehow made you proud. To my father, James Davis Jr., for the pep talks you’ve given me when I needed to know you believed in me and what I’ve been called to do.
My husband, Jeffery; and my children Jeffery Marques, Jeremy Dewayne, and Johnathan LeDavis; daughter-in-law Philicia; and grandchildren Asia and Ashlynn—through the good and the bad, we’ve endured and pressed onward. We are truly a family, through everything, still standing strong. My life has been enriched because of all of you!
To my sister, Danette Dial: thanks for being the special you that you are; my brother, Terence Davis, and sister-in-law, Cameron, (you guys have gone above and beyond when it’s come to supporting me and no, I’ve not forgotten!); my sister, Arlinda Davis, who’s always telling somebody about my books; and my brother, Emmanuel Davis, who appreciates what it takes to write a story—all of you have made this journey called life and the faith we’ve employed in order to do what we do, so much more exciting.
Rosetta Moore: you’re one special sister-friend indeed. To Vanessa L. Rice: you never fail to remind me who I am in the literary world. Thanks to my cousin, Mark Davis, who believed enough in the early days of my doing this to really spread the word (and some books) in the Maryland/D.C. area. Marie Primas-Bradshaw and Vina Lavendar: both of you have blessed me in ways like a mother caring for their own child. Thanks Wanda Lawson for your special thoughtfulness and true desire to bless me by planting a seed in what I’ve been called to do. Zelda Oliver-Miles, Linda H. Jones, Ryan Phillips, and Stephanie Perry Moore: I am so proud to know each of you and to call you fellow authors and friends. You hold a special place in my heart; I wish you the best in whatever you do.
Now comes the hard part. I wish I could name each and every person, every book club, online Web site, bookstore, library, newspaper, magazine, radio and television personality who has touched my life in a positive way. God knows, it hasn’t always been easy. To list everyone would be a book within itself. So to those of you who were kind enough to choose my books and/or reached out to let me know how you were affected by my work; to individuals, book clubs, church organizations, and companies who brought me into your setting or extended an invitation for me and your group to have face-to-face fellowship (like Ella Wells, Ora “Polly” Mathews, Barbara Bryant and The Ladies of Distinction and Ladies Divine Book Club in Raleigh-Durham, NC; Long Branch Baptist Church and Book Club in Greenville, SC; Greater Beallwood Baptist Church and Book Club in Columbus, GA; the Sensational Readers Book Club in Rogersville, AL; Delta Sigma Theta Sorority Birmingham Alumnae, AKA Omicron Omega Chapter, Miles College, Bethel Baptist Church Prime Timer’s in Birmingham, AL to name a few): May God bless you exceedingly, abundantly, above all you can ever ask for or think of!
To those who have e-mailed me, signed my guest book with such positive and encouraging messages, sent letters, called (some of you are quite resourceful), or made a special effort to visit with me when I was in your city: please hear my heart when I say, “You didn’t have to do it but you did, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!” What a blessed dilemma to find myself in—having so many to thank, there’s not room enough to name (or contain) them all. That is so like God.
A special thanks to Stacey N. Barney who—with much love and respect—was responsible for me returning to the published world at this point in my life. I thank you for reaching out to me like you did. To the staff of Dafina Books, I thank you for all the hard work you do. My thanks to Selena James, Editorial Director, and Monica Harris for the wonderful work you both did to ensure my work was polished and an enjoyable experience for the reader. No author (or person) is an island, and I want you to know that your labor is not in vain.
Lastly, to you who have chosen Blessed Trinity: I pray this book blesses you as much as it—and you—have already blessed me. What I do means little without you being there to receive it once it’s done. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And thanks for continuing to help me spread the “Word.” If you like what you read here, then be a blessing to someone else and tell them about it (just don’t tell them too much and ruin their reading experience)!
Vanessa Davis Griggs
www.VanessaDavisGriggs.com
Now Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
(Hebrews 11:1)
Everybody wants to know how I, a nobody from nowhere, became a somebody about to sport the coveted last name of Landris. It just goes to show how people shouldn’t judge another without knowing what’s happening on the inside. And never, ever to underestimate the power of Faith!
Before I get ahead of myself, maybe I should begin at the beginning, since I’ve already told you the end. Don’t you just hate it when people flip to the back of a book and read the end before they even crack the beginning and middle just because they feel they have to know how it ends? Well, that won’t be the case here. The end is officially out, over and done with. Faith wins!
Now we can concentrate on the story, and how I managed to arrive here.
I am Faith. Not Hope—Hope is the timid one. You know, the one who crosses her fingers and wishes for the best. Not Charity. Sweet little Charity, the one who really believes love conquers all, and, if I’m truly honest, has been told she’s the greatest of the three of us. Both of them give up too easily. It’s like they’re not really sure what they want—a bit too wishy-washy for me.
But now me—I know what I want. And as a rule, I generally grab hold like a pit bull until I get it. Not by giving up at the first hint of opposition. Oh, no. You see, Faith recognizes the impossible, yet sees the invisible, and holds fast to the confession. I succeed because I stand by what I want as if I’m entitled to it.
And I am.
That’s why I claimed dear, charming Landris as mine the first time I laid eyes on him. God knows, it should be a sin for any man—let alone a man of God—to be so fine, smart, and good-looking, all swirled into one. Note to God: Needed—an 11th Commandment: Thou shalt not be so tempting.
So I “named it” and “claimed it,” right then and there. The man never stood a chance, not when it came to resisting me. Faith was at work; he was as good as mine.
“You can’t claim somebody else’s man,” Hope said to me when I shared my confession with her. I didn’t want to, but I had to tell someone. “You can’t impose your will over someone else’s. You just can’t!”
Dear Hope—always the practical one. She does have her own desires, but she chooses to live her life cautiously, always hoping. “Just in case it doesn’t work out,” she says, “at least I won’t be too disappointed.” She knows nothing about men, and if I’m honest here, even less about the power of Faith. That’s who I am: Faith Alexandria Morrell, and by tomorrow, the new Mrs. Landris.
From the beginning, it was the three of us: Faith, Hope, and Charity. Like water, steam, and ice—the same, but different. Water—easy and fluid, can flow anywhere, yet it’s strong enough to form a Grand Canyon. Steam—vapor like a spirit, practically invisible, yet leaves undeniable evidence of its existence. Dare I say, able to open, without detection, what some believe to be sealed for good, and create power never imagined probable, let alone possible. Ice—solid, steadfast and firm, can be grasped, handled, touched. Each the same, only a different form.
There’s one thing I would like to clear up here and now: Johnnie Mae Taylor Landris had her hands full even before she met me. There was her mother’s memory problem, and four siblings, three of whom were routinely uncooperative. She had a young daughter to raise within a brand-new marriage plus the demands of a writing career that required her to travel.
Her husband, the Right Reverend (and very handsome) Pastor George Landris, presided over a new ministry growing so fast it was making heads spin, especially for a church in Birmingham, Alabama. Now don’t get me wrong—I’m not putting down Birmingham. It’s just, who would have expected such a phenomenon to take place here? There were people who sold everything and moved from other states just to take part.
Can you blame them? Pastor Landris is a great teacher of the Bible. He definitely knows how to break down the Word of God. He’s unconventional and sure of himself. How else could he wear dreadlocks and get away with it? He’s the type who’ll rarely back down when he believes in something. Pastor Landris is the kind of man of God whom people will literally uproot their lives to follow.
Like Sapphire and Angela Gabriel. Although from what I heard, Miss Angel Gabriel (Angel is what she prefers being called) didn’t originally move from Asheville, North Carolina, to be part of this newfound ministry.
“Actually, I was supposed to be running a radio station,” Angel said with a smile. She and I worked closely on Johnnie Mae and Pastor’s marriage seminar material. We ended up talking, and that’s when I found out some interesting information. It turns out Pastor Landris had supposedly bought that same radio station in a deal that, incidentally, ended up blowing up in several folks’ faces. I’m talking big-time blowup! Of course, most people (including Miss Angel) quietly blame that costly misstep on Thomas, Pastor Landris’s older, yet equally good-looking and, might I add, talented brother.
So when Hope, Charity, and I showed up at the church in 2003 and inserted ourselves in these folks’ lives, things were already crazy. To our credit, we did try to help. And were you to ask Johnnie Mae, she would admit that I really was a blessing. And even if she were to deny it, I was—no…I still am a blessing.
Don’t believe me? Okay, then you be the judge. Man can, and should, plan all he wants, but there are times when God has His own thoughts about the matter.
Romans 8:28 states, “And we know that all things work together for good to them who love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.”
Yes, for good to them who love God and who are called according to His purpose.
And I do love God.
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
(Jeremiah 29:11)
Pastor George Landris watched her as she walked gracefully to the other side of the banquet hall of the church. He couldn’t help but smile; she had that effect on him. She had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. With the passing of time, that belief had only intensified. Knowing it would be inappropriate for him to act on his true impulse, he casually strolled closer.
“I hope you won’t think badly of me for saying this,” Pastor Landris said in a low voice only she could hear, “you are, without a doubt, the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Careful there, Pastor—I happen to be spoken for.” She held up her left hand and wiggled the three diamond rocks that adorned her ring finger.
The two of them were standing near an empty table. Many of the people who had attended the banquet were chatting in groups as they prepared to leave.
Pastor Landris moved in closer and began to whisper softly in her ear. “Well, your man is indeed one blessed man, if I say so myself. Tell me…honestly. What are the chances of the two of us getting together later tonight after this thing is over?” he asked—his deep voice, velvety-smooth. “You know…to talk?”
“To talk, Pastor?” Skepticism laced her voice. “Just to talk?”
“Madam, I am a man of God, and I assure you, where the Lord leads, I have vowed to follow.” He leaned back to be able to admire her better, then began shaking his head. “Mmm-mmm.”
She tried, but failed—she couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, Pastor. You know, it’s hard to say no to someone like you, especially with that irresistible charm. How can one be so good, and yet be so bad at the same time?”
Pastor Landris bit down slightly on his bottom lip and grinned even more. He touched the back of the chair, as though he needed to do something to keep that one hand occupied. “Well, now, Mrs. Landris, I must confess—I have it bad for you. Only for you.”
“Landris, you need to stop,” Johnnie Mae Landris said, fanning at him while trying to keep her voice in check. “You would think after being married for three years—”
“It won’t officially be three years until Wednesday.” He grinned, his eyes again performing a quick scan of her petite body from head to toe as he slowly shook his head.
She smiled at him as he watched her before she swatted him playfully. “I told you, you need to stop.”
“What?” he asked innocently.
“Flirting with me in public.” Johnnie Mae continued to blush. She waved at someone walking out of the door who waved good-bye to her. The crowd that had originally filled the room earlier that night, was now down to a handful.
“But you’re my wife. It’s perfectly acceptable for me to flirt with my wife, isn’t it?” Pastor Landris rubbed his well-trimmed goatee. He looked down at his black patent leather Prada boots before looking back up at her.
“There’s also a time and a place for everything.”
“‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…’”
“Yes, Mr. Walking Bible, and there’s ‘a time to love.’ In a church facility, in front of people, immediately after a lovely banquet given by members and friends of the church, is neither the time nor the place,” Johnnie Mae said as she began to sashay away in her beautiful Prussian-blue, beaded evening gown. She needed to hug a few more people and thank them for their contribution to such an unforgettable evening.
“I suppose this means we have a date for later tonight, then?” he yelled at her, a little louder than he’d intended. Quickly, he looked around to see if anyone had overheard him. His eyes were immediately met by those of a woman who had recently become a member of their congregation.
“Good evening, Pastor Landris.”
“Sister Morrell.”
“Oh, please—I’ve asked you several times to call me Faith. Sister Morrell just sounds so stiff and formal.” She smiled.
“As you prefer—Faith.”
“I just wanted to personally congratulate you and Mrs. Landris on your wedding anniversary.” She pointed to the banner on the back wall that read: September 8, 2001 to 2004—Only The Beginning of Something Beautiful. “Three years is a long time to be with one person.”
“Not really. Not when the ultimate joy will be celebrating our golden anniversary.”
“Then I probably should say that three years would be a long time for me. But I suppose had I been as fortunate as Johnnie Mae to have married someone as wonderful as you—”
“Excuse me, but I believe you have it all wrong.”
A puzzled smile came across her face. “I’m sorry. I have it all wrong?”
“Yes. You see, Johnnie Mae is not the fortunate one here at all—I am,” he said with pride. “I am so blessed to have found such a woman to share my life—three years with her has been more like three minutes. ‘Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord.’ As far as I’m concerned, our happiness together now is merely a small hint of what is yet to come.”
Faith’s face quickly fell. “Oh,” she said, a little disappointed, then recovering her pleasant demeanor. “That is so sweet!” Pure honey seemed to drip from her lips. “You two are blessed! So blessed. Congratulations again.”
“Well, Sister Mor…I mean, Faith. Thank you. I’ll be sure and tell Mrs. Landris.”
“Please do. I was hoping to catch up with her before she left.” She pretended to be earnestly searching, glancing at the few people still chatting in small groups. “I’m sorry we missed each other, but I must be heading home now. My sister, Hope, wasn’t feeling well when I left, and I don’t want her waiting up too late.”
“Your sister is under the weather? I wondered why she hadn’t come to the banquet. Hope worked so tirelessly, helping to put this together.”
“Oh, it’s nothing too serious. She was having some difficulty breathing earlier today. Probably just another one of the panic attacks that she’s been known to have from time to time. Charity is keeping an eye on her until I get back.”
“Please tell Hope we’ll be praying for her speedy recovery. And that she was sorely missed tonight.”
Faith maintained her smile. “Of course. I’ll be sure and tell her. See you tomorrow at services.”
Pastor Landris watched as she left. There was something about Faith and her identical twin sister Hope that really bothered him. He felt sure they loved each other, but something was going on between them. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae arrived home. It had been an enjoyable but long evening. Johnnie Mae had gone upstairs to step out of her evening gown—she loved Prussian blue and hoped to find a daytime dress in that color. Everyone had been so wonderful at the banquet tonight, the congregation having given them a lovely third wedding anniversary celebration. It had indeed been a glorious night, but she was exhausted. Tomorrow was Sunday and the start of yet another long day.
As she briefly closed her eyes, she couldn’t help but reflect on all that had happened over the past few years that had brought them to this place…
And they said one to another, Behold, this dreamer cometh.
(Genesis 37:19)
A few years earlier, Pastor Landris had been relieved of his duties as the pastor of Wings of Grace Faith Ministry Church in Atlanta, Georgia, a congregation that grew from some 37 members to over 4,000 under his leadership. Prior to his dismissal, he was asked to tone down his support of women in ministry. He didn’t.
Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae had just gotten married on September 8 of that year.
Johnnie Mae didn’t immediately relocate to Atlanta, and as it turned out, she never had to. God spoke to Pastor Landris and instructed him to move to Johnnie Mae’s hometown of Birmingham, Alabama, to start anew.
Thomas Landris, Pastor Landris’s older brother, had made a mess of some investments he’d been in charge of on behalf of his brother. Fifteen years earlier, Thomas had invested money in Microsoft stock for both him and his brother. Thomas took his out early; Pastor Landris left his to grow.
And grow it did.
Pastor Landris became a multimillionaire, but when the IRS started looking for its share, he discovered his brother had cashed out the stocks, as Pastor Landris had instructed him to, but invested the money elsewhere without his knowledge or approval.
Thomas did end up recouping some of the lost money, and before Pastor Landris knew it, he was to be the owner of an FM radio station in Birmingham. Pastor Landris received this as further confirmation that he was indeed being led to relocate to the Magic City.
In December, Pastor Landris sold his house, packed his belongings, and moved to Birmingham.
He left without a church requesting him to come as pastor, to a home technically belonging to his wife, along with his brother and a few others who had also made the decision to relocate.
Thomas was to become the general manager of the radio station his brother was in the process of buying. Sapphire Drummond, a therapist, came along from Atlanta because she was dating Thomas, and she wanted a change of scenery. Sapphire and Theresa Jordan, Pastor Landris’s ex-fiancée, had been best friends. Angela Gabriel, who preferred being called Angel, had been hired by the original owners of the radio station previous to the sale. In fact, she had no idea the station was even in the process of being sold when she accepted the job. Her beloved great-grandmother had just died, and this job was a great opportunity for her. She sure didn’t know she had met the potential buyer when Pastor Landris visited her hometown of Asheville, North Carolina, earlier that year.
For Pastor Landris, everything seemed to be falling into place. Surely God was directing this move. But he would soon learn that things aren’t always as they seem. What appears to be God’s will one moment can end up looking totally different once things begin to unfold.
Pastor Landris would come to understand how Joseph the dreamer in the Bible must have felt. Joseph’s father Jacob, later called Israel, loved him so much more than his other children that he made his beloved son the infamous coat of many colors. Joseph dreamed his family would end up bowing to him. He shared this dream with them—an announcement that didn’t go over well with his brothers (or his father at first, for that matter).
“Shalt thou indeed have dominion over us?” Joseph’s brothers and father wanted to know. Of course, they hated Joseph even more for his dreams and for daring to speak those dreams out loud.
Pastor George Edward Landris could definitely relate.
When Pastor Landris needed spiritual encouragement to get through the rough times—as he wrestled with feelings of rejection, being lied to and about—he would find comfort reading Genesis, chapters 37–50, to help him go on.
As with Joseph, Pastor Landris believed God had given him a dream. Somewhere Joseph must have believed God would bring it to pass or else he would have just quit. When Pastor Landris needed a Word to help him, he would think about all Joseph endured before his blessings finally came to pass. He reflected on how Joseph was put in a pit by his own brothers, who had originally planned to kill him. And had it not been for his other brothers, Reuben and Judah, Joseph and his dreams might well have perished.
But God had His hands of protection on Joseph, and Pastor Landris knew God’s hand was also on him. Pastor Landris’s own “preach-brothers” in the ministry were not so happy to see him come to their city. They pretended they were whenever he was around, even as they plotted to get rid of him.
Not to physically kill him, although Pastor Landris wasn’t one hundred percent certain about that at times. But he did realize they wanted to assassinate him—and his dreams—in a spiritual sense.
No one had called Pastor Landris to come to Birmingham. Who could say if he would ever have a congregation again? That paralleled Joseph being thrown in prison. On the plus side, Pastor Landris did have his new family: a wonderful wife in Johnnie Mae, along with her three-year-old daughter, Princess Rose. And there was Thomas and Sapphire, who had followed him to Alabama to lend their assistance.
Things would surely have to get better.
However, Pastor Landris—as did Joseph—would quickly discover that that’s not always the case.
Faith Alexandria Morrell didn’t care about church anymore. She’d had more than her fill of “church folks.” One thing she could never understand was how the church pastor, who constantly hammered other folk about what they should and shouldn’t do, could end up doing that same wrong thing, get caught, and the church would just forgive him and keep him on. It made no sense to her.
“They’re all only human. He’s just a man,” her friend Dominique told her. Faith was still living in New Orleans then. She had questioned why the congregation hadn’t kicked their pastor out on his holier-than-thou, self-righteous tailbone after they caught him messing around with all those women in the church. “Who are we to judge?” Dominique said. “Only God can do that.”
Faith still didn’t get it. She had witnessed him deliver a few sermons from the pulpit, getting the church all emotional as he began to sing and moan. The next thing she knew, hats and shoes were flying all over the place; people’s glasses were landing on the floor or in the pews behind them; men were yanking off suit coats, ties, and jackets and running around, shouting. The women were dancing, unconcerned whether things she didn’t care to see or mention were showing as they jumped or fell down, their dresses, blouses, skirts in disarray. Faith wondered—how holy could this be?
Those who weren’t shouting were running up to the pastor and laying paper money at his feet, which only seemed to make him whoop and holler more.
Faith just did…not…get it. People claimed it was the Holy Spirit that had caused them to act that way, but she knew from scripture that the spirit was subject unto the prophet. She wasn’t a Bible scholar, but that much she did know. This was emotionalism, pure and simple. It was the way they chose to react or express the way they were feeling, which was fine as far as Faith was concerned. She just wished folk would call it what it was and quit acting like they were being uncontrollably possessed or something.
Then this same pastor was caught having affairs with not one, not two, but three ladies in his congregation at the same time. What was worse, his wife was the one who finally caught him on tape. When she brought her audio evidence before the congregation during one Sunday morning’s service, proving he was with this one woman, that caused two other women to pop up mad and argue there was no way this could possibly be true, seeing as he was with “her” exclusively. Talk about angry. They didn’t seem to mind that he was cheating on his wife, but it was a whole other matter when they learned he wasn’t being so faithful to them, either.
The pastor confessed to his loyal congregation a week later. Faith happened to be there that Sunday by special invitation from Dominique. They had front-row seats. He delivered a passionate, tearful plea, begging for forgiveness. He claimed Satan had him bound, using his godly gift of loving others against him. . . .
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Blessed Trinity
Vanessa Davis Griggs
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