Comfortable

Prologue

If papa only knew his little church mouse was in these streets

While he's out here tryna save the souls of folks he meets

She smokes swishers, listens to Rza, counting cash

With some Rellos on the dash

Trying to conceal her stash

Hoping that the Lord forgives her for not living by his word

Because she thinks that she's not worth all his love

Which is absurd

Because her heart is made of 20 karat genuine gold

While the deacon tells the masses that their souls touch Satan's coals

..............

Christina

Church...

The one place where people are supposed to find solace,

Take comfort in the Lord and his word,

Become rooted in their faith,

While remaining humble in the presence of his vessel.

But I mean, that's just my personal opinion.

Once you enter those doors, it seems that all beliefs, morals, and principles are left behind. Every pew and alter becomes a stage, a display for all to see. Those with heavy hearts have been replaced with heavy heads from the weight of ten-gallon church hats. Folks bring their checkbooks and damn near put themselves in debt in an attempt to see who can write the largest amount.

But AGAIN, that's just my opinion.

It's not like pastor hangs on to the money anyway. It goes right back to every homeless shelter, soup kitchen, community, and rehab center on the block. If it's charitable, then that's where the money goes. It seems as if sometimes, he's one of the few examples of Christian faith left.

Well, other than Granny J...

Although, she can be jaded sometimes too...

Anyway...

I sit in the third row, behind Sister Tessie, watching her eyeing the pastor like her next victim. I don't know why she doesn't just...

Let me stop talking about this woman before I become no better than these hens in front of me.

The cold breeze from outdoors runs over my shoulder as I try to pay attention to Bishop Cornell's announcements.

Looking closely, I can tell that Pastor has almost had his fill of the redundant listings. His eyes begin to hang low as he starts to nod in and out. Stifling my attempts at laughter, a small snicker leaks out; catching the attention of the entire row in front of me. They all turn around with glares and grimaces that pierce me like broken glass.