But, it's what happened after church that made me nervous.
You know how mothers can be,
In reality, it's just more work for me.
She invited him over for a meal.
If my look could have killed.
He came to the house, sat and ate.
Why do preachers put so much food on their plates?
We retired to the "good" living room,
With clean carpet and all.
Can't you picture the lovely paintings on the wall?
I had to go to the living room too.
My father's only request,
"Impress the company, act like you have some sense."
The grown-ups talked of many things, unimpressed.
My time could have been better spent.
This man talked a little too much.
On and on,
I wish he'd hush.
The phone rang.
My father had his escape.
Then Mom left the room,
Much to my dismay.
Now what would I have to say to this man?
"Hey, hiya doing?
Can you do the latest dance?"
His start for the conversation...
"What did you get from the sermon?"
I did not have an explanation.
I hadn't paid attention in church.
I guess the consequences for having no answer was his majestic oration.
He stood up, with Bible in hand.
He read a scripture, this preacher man.
The text of his sermon was A Black Man Helped Jesus.
Hey wait a minute, that I didn't know.
He told the story of Simon of Cyrene.
And told how Simon helped our Holy King.
He told how he knew Simon was black.
His answer makes sense now that I think back.
Simon was from Cyrene, a place in the "black belt" of Africa.
His voice got high and he let out an "I, I, I, I, I."
(Ya'll didn't know I could do that did ya?)
He tug at his ear.
He paced the floor.
Preacher man was preaching and that's for sure.
To me, his lone trapped member.
But this sermon I would remember.
He told of how Jesus died on the cross.
So my little soul would not be lost.
He said that Jesus was the propitiation for my sins.
"Just open up your heart and let Him in!"
For some reason I was entranced.
It didn't even seem weird when he did a Holy dance.
He pulled at his tie, he clapped his hands.
Out of my mouth surprisingly came an "Amen."
He drew to a close about two times or four.
BUT he couldn't close without a story, just one more.
He told of African-American triumphs and how God made a way.
He said to remember God in this new day.
He declared that we should be proud of the Easter holiday.
Because a black man helped bear the sins of mankind on this eminent day.
He actually sang a song.
"Because He Lives," melodic, strong.
Did a tear really come from my eye?
Naw, it was a speck of dust that made me cry?
He left the living room and the house.
I went to my room.
I was quiet as a mouse.
I wiped the dust off the Holy Book.
I turned to the scripture I had heard,
To take a look.
At the Bible I stared, "Who was that man?"
I don't know his name,
So, I call him "Mr. Preacher Man."
