Praise The Lord
CHAPTER ONE: "The Van, The Voice, and the Vanishing Offering Plate" “Now if you hear me say ‘Amen,’ don’t just nod. Say it like you mean it!” Reverend Julius Love stood at the pulpit of Mount Zion First Deliverance Church in Dayton, Ohio, gripping the mic like it was the last lifeline to his career. His voice, smooth as molasses with just a hint of fire, rolled through the sanctuary like Sunday gravy on grandma’s stove. “Amen!” came the choir, half in spirit, half in hangover recovery. Today was the kickoff of the Rebuild the Revival gospel tour, and Mount Zion was packed to the rafters. Old ladies in hats big enough to catch the Holy Ghost. Men with suits three sizes too loud. Ushers flapping fans with all the grace of angry pigeons. Julius wiped his brow and caught sight of them in the back row: the tagalongs . The ones who weren’t in the choir, but never missed a stop. Marv , slouched with a gold tooth and a Bl...