Preface: This is part of an ongoing series about a former Mormon turned atheist attempting to visit 52 different religious groups within a year. Every episode is caught in a podcast that you can subscribe to at 52 Weeks, 52 Religions with John Hummel . This post is part of a test series for the book version, so if you see any mistakes or have any questions, please leave a comment. And if you like it - please click the Recommend button (the little thumbs up symbol at the top). Thank you!

The Rules mentioned in this chapter can be found  here.

I tapped out the numbers on my phone.  This was going to be my first call. I really didn’t know much about this church – only that it was Christian, but in a country where there are as many varieties of Christianity as there are varieties of potato chips, that didn’t mean anything. The only reason why I was calling this church first was because they sent an invitation to my house when I moved in. Figured it was as good a place to start as any. The postcard showed an attractive African American couple, he looking better in his suit than I could ever aspire to and a million dollar smile. Don't get me wrong, I'm cute and all, but I would kill to have teeth that white.

It only took a few rings. “Hello?” The voice was baritone, smooth and confident.

“Hi. Is Pastor Cousins available?”

“That’s me.”

I sat up in my chair. “My name is John Hummel, and I’m doing a podcast called ‘Blog the Religions’ [this was before I changed the name to '52 Weeks, 52 Religions'] about visiting 52 different religions in a year and interviewing their ministers. Would it be all right if I attended services at your church and interviewed you about your faith?”

“Sure.”

I felt dumbfounded. That was it? Sure? I had expected something more. Like a “Who are you?” or “What are you doing?” or perhaps even “Why?”

“OK, then.” I pulled out my planner. “How about this Sunday, then? We can get together after services for the interview portion.”

“All right.”

This was going easier than I thought  as I wrote down the information. “Just let you know, the only editing of the interviews for my show is removing any pauses or ‘ums’ or ‘ahs’ – just to make things sound better.”

“It’s all good.”

“Excellent!” I was excited now. I chatted with Pastor Cousins for another minute or two, thanked him for his time, and said my goodbyes.

As soon as I hung up the phone, I dropped to one knee, giving a karate punch to the air in front of me. I had done it. One down, fifty one to go.

The rest of the week was an exercise in excitement and dread.  I wanted to start the project, and I was excited that I got my first church. And was worried about insulting someone – either the pastor, or one of the participants. I wasn’t sure how exactly. Maybe at some part everybody would stand up and wave their arms, and people would get upset while I sat there like a party pooper. Not that I pooped that many parties. But for this project, I had decided a policy of non-participation was important. I wanted to make notes, mainly by tapping out my observations on my phone and having my notes appear on my Twitter account at http://www.twitter.com/blogthereligion. I wanted it to be “blogthereligions”, but Twitter wouldn’t give me the last stinking “s”. Broke my heart.

I knew the church for Love First was in Gibsonton, where I live. Gibsonton is roughly 25 minutes south of downtown Tampa, Florida.  When I tapped in the address into my iPhone’s built in map system (can I say how much I love my phone? It’s practically going to be the hero of this tale), I discovered that the church Love First held services was 5 minutes away.

I must have checked my backpack ten times before leaving the house. Microphone and batteries? Check. My wife’s old iPod Nano to store the audio recordings? Check. My planner to store my list of questions and 10 Random Words? Yup.

Kiss for my lovely wife, my children, and I was off. Until one minute later when I came back inside because I forgot my phone. Back again a minute later because I left my keys on the counter. And back one more time because it helps to actually grab the backpack that I held all of my crap.

The church was, well, I guess like any other church I've seen. Here's the church, here's the steeple, open it up, and see all the people. In this case, full of black people. Now, I'm not a Bill O'Reilly asshole who is surprised when he goes to a restaurant in Harlem and finds that black people don't say "motherf***er" all the time.  I was just worried that people would think I was out of place, or wonder what the white guy was doing just showing up.

I felt this way especially at the beginning of my quest to visit 52 religions in a year. I didn't expect to be offended by anything, but I worried about causing offense. I had my Rules which were designed to cause as little offense as possible, but I still worried that I'd somehow hurt someone's feelings in the effort to - not hurt their feelings.

Yes. I worry too much.

I sat down in the back, just taking in the looks of things. Everyone that came in was dressed, either in suits or in nice casual wear. The latter was honestly a bit of a shock to me. I knew that some churches were more casual. But after 35 years going to a church that the social norm were nice suits, white shirt (always a white shirt) and tie, seeing someone in a polo-shirt wasn't something I was used to.

At the front of the room was a drum set, and in the back was a little production area where a man fidgeted with his equipment. What caught my eye was something I never thought I'd see before, in a church anyway.  A projector showing a Windows screen. It wasn't just that Windows is all but the incarnation of all that is wrong about computers, but PowerPoint - in a church?

Part of me, that every clicking, every whirring analytical part that makes me good at what I do, started clicking away. Why not? Why have everyone open their Bibles and look away from the sermon - when you can have it right on a screen to keep people's attention? Why worry about buying all of those hymn books when you can put it right on the screen? You save money, you keep people's attention - and if you have to deal with the soul sucking experience that is Windows in the process, well, OK - that might be a price to pay[1].

A lovely woman I recognized from the picture on the postcard found me there in the back, looking around. Ms. Cousins greeted me, and once she heard why I was there, she called her husband over.

Pastor Jomo Cousins is huge. I’m not just talking height and breadth. He’s one of those guys who owns the room just by standing in it. Doesn’t help that he had to be at least a foot over my 5’ 8.5” (I claim that half inch, since it keeps me a hair taller than Tom Cruise. I can feel my lovely wife’s eyes rolling at me as I write this – she’s put up with that statement for years).

He’s also incredibly confident. It’s part of that largeness – it’s not just his size, but his attitude.  I took a seat in the back, and he sat down in the pew in front of me. He sat, half turned towards me, talking about his church, how he started it, and what brought him to the ministry.

Which turns out to have been - football. In a former incarnation, he was a player for the NFL, running for Arizona Cardinals and the New York Giants[2]. That ended when he was too injured to play. He did motivational speaking, he sold homes, but in the end, it seemed that everything was just falling apart.

I probably could have found that out with a little bit of Google sleuthing. But - he told me. Just came out and told me how his life spiraled out of his dreams. How he found himself deciding one day to just turn it all over to God, that God must have a plan and wanted him to be a minister.

With the same drive that put him on the NFL and as a motivational speaker, he became a minister. When I met him, early in January 2009, Barack Obama had just been elected president. The housing market was crashing, the economy was tanking, hundreds of thousands were losing their jobs. He probably could have hidden his own financial difficulties, his own frustrations at how much he could have had an how much he'd lost.

He didn't. He admitted to his problems. He opened up, right then and there with a total stranger about his financial difficulties, his health issues - and rather than trying to hide it, he just said it. It turns out that is part of his message. People shouldn't hide their problems, shouldn't try to just put on a "happy happy face" - because we all have problems. We're all hurting in some way, and the only way to fix them is to come out, admit the problems, and let God help out.

I compared this to my own experiences revealing my problems. I had gone bankrupt some 4 years before - combination of losing one job, having to move for the next, having renters who spent 6 months not paying me so by the time they were finally evicted I lost the house because I couldn't make the mortgage payments – and to be honest, by not being smarter with my money. I wasted it, bought crap I shouldn’t have, and didn’t save for that rainy day. How many people did I tell about my financial troubles?

Nobody. Not my coworkers, not my friends, not people I used to go to church with, not even my parents or sisters. And really, that was how I expected to deal with every problem. They were my problems to solve, not anyone else's. Perhaps it was an upbringing that taught that complaining about your problems was room for derision and mocking.  Whatever the cause, this was my method.

Now that I look back, I can see that when I struggled with my faith for all of those years, I shared my problems with - no one. It was my questioning, my struggle, my issues. I consulted no books that demeaned the Mormon church, I consulted no experts on one side or the other. I did my own research by studying the holy books of my faith, and found them wanting. I struggled alone, perhaps out of fear of burdening someone else about my problems.

After years I could finally bring myself to talk to my wife about it - about the time I had all but make my decision to come out of the atheist closet.

And here was this big, handsome man who once had the world at his fingertips, who probably expected to be living the good life by now – and was now broke financially and physically. Only instead of hiding it, he embraced it, faced it, and shared it so he could help other people.

He finally excused himself and moved to the front of the room, and with that, the worshipping began.

The service itself crackled with energy. All my life, the services were sacred somber affairs, usually with the most upbeat hymn something like "Onward Christian Soldiers" set to a proper 4/4 time (maybe 3/4 or, if things were getting really crazy, 6/8) while the congregation sat. Here at Love First - nobody was sitting. They were standing. Clapping. The words to the sung are flung onto the wall by the projector, and everyone is singing right along to a modern toe tapping gospel tune.

And there I am, sitting in the back, being the whitest white guy that's ever gone to a church with mostly black people ever. Tapping my notes into my phone and onto Twitter. As the first song wound down, they launched into another - this one more serene. Voices joining in harmony to call the Spirit of the Lord into the room.

With the songs over, Pastor Cousins called the congregation to join hands one with another, across the pews, forming a chain of human contact. An elderly gentlemen reached back to include me in the chain.

Only - the Rules. No participation. I turned him down, knowing that I was probably confusing him, and hoping he didn't think I was refusing to hold his hand because I was either a racist or such a homophobe I wouldn't hold another guy's hand. I went to him afterwards to let him know so he didn't take it personally. Odds are he didn't care, but I felt bad enough that I wanted to seek him out and apologize.

Did you notice I'm paranoid about that kind of thing?

Right after the prayer circle, Pastor Cousins asked all of this members to go around the room and introduce themselves to someone they *didn't* know. "Show love," as he put it. I loved this idea. In the church I was raised in, the call was put out for "are there any new members", and some poor schmuck would be put on the spot, standing up, everybody staring at the new person.

Cousins did the opposite. Since everyone is standing up at the same time to seek out someone they don't recognize, the poor newbie doesn’t quite feel so singled out. And if its someone who's been going to church for some time and you didn't meet them before, here's your chance. Everybody stood up at once, moving around, shaking hands. OK - this one I could participate in (hey, I have the Rules, but I'm not going to be a complete ass about it). It turned out it was going to be the first of many times I'd be meeting new people at a church and shaking hand after hand.

Then it came time for the children to go off to "Children Church." As the children were separated from the grown-ups, there was a new exercise. Pastor Jomo offered a blessing upon the children, and asked the congregation to reach their hands back towards their little ones. There the children stood in the back of the room, as all of those hands were outstretched towards their children as Pastor Jomo prayed over them. I wondered how it looked to those little children, all of those grownups reaching out towards them, a sea of fingers waving.

Once the children were gone, it was time for a sermon.

Let me take a second and ask a question. I'm not a religious historian, and don't claim to be one. But have you ever watched white people pray, and black people pray? I can't help but wonder why it’s so different.

Back during the 2008 election, I was a volunteer to sign people up to vote through the Obama election drive. At one such event, people gathered together into a prayer circle.

It was pretty clear who the white people were in the group.

Prayer Leader: Jesus, thank you for all of our blessing.

Black People: Amen! Thank you Jesus!

White People: …

Prayer Leader: And give us protection and aid this day-

Black People: Oh, yes.

White People: …

Prayer Leader: And help us to do thy will in all things-

Black People: Amen!

White People: …

Prayer Leader: Amen.

Everyone: Amen.

What is that about? I'm not saying I mind - I mean, hey, if nothing else it keeps people from falling asleep. You're right there and in the conversation, and if you agree - give an "Amen!" or “praise God.”

Why the difference between the two? I've got no idea. I'm not enough of a historian to know.

Sitting there in the back, though, I could certainly hear the difference. No one was going to fall asleep - and Pastor Cousins was going to make sure of that. He put the words to the scripture they were going to discuss on the projector screen, and he wanted the congregation to read it. He asked for people to give him an "Amen!", and they gave it. If they weren't loud enough, he'd repeat himself a little louder.

 

Pastor Jomo: "Amen?"

 

Congregation: "Amen."

Pastor Jomo: "Amen!?"

Congregation: "AMEN!"

 

What was the sermon about? It started out in Bible, talking about the various problems that Elijah had. By the story, The children of Israel had turned away from God, Elijah was being pursued by King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, there were famines upon the land (as ordered by God because of the various wickedness of Israel and its rulers).

It seemed to sum up the whole of Pastor Jomo’s life – all of these problems, all of these crisis, everything working against him – and then, by his account, here’s God telling him “Hey, Jomo – go become a minister.” All right, maybe he's not being chased by armies, but you get the idea.

Evidently, God told Elijah to get off his keister and get back to work.  I sat as people “Amened!”, prayed, and blessed their pastor when he admitted his own shortcomings and counseled them to do better by having faith in God. He made them laugh, he scolded them a little, he counseled them a little, he got them fired up for the challenge of obeying God.

And he made sure they knew he was always there for them. He had his phone lines. Every 6 AM he was going to be on an open call where he’d pray for people who put in requests so they could all be together as a community.

When services were over, the congregation exited the building. I hung in the back, patiently waiting. This was going to be my first interview. I had it all planned out in my head. We’d find an empty room, I’d plug in my little microphone, and get going.

Problem is, Pastor Jomo wasn’t on my schedule. He’d forgotten about the interview. Or, I had neglected to mention it, but I was almost certain I had. To me, the interview portion was the real deal of the whole thing. I could watch all of the services I liked, but unless I could ask my questions, I wasn’t really going to learn anything. So I told him I’d call him later that week, and set up a meeting somewhere else.

We wound up meeting at a Panera Bread. I was there far earlier than I had to – long enough that I could try my first Chai Latte[3]

When Pastor Jomo arrived, all I could think was “Holy crap – what is the weather like up there?” It turned out that he was on a Book of Daniel fast. I remember the story from the Old Testament – Daniel, along with his friends Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, three Israelite youths who pledged not to eat the meat blessed by the priests of King Nebuchadnezzar. Instead, they ate only of the vegetables, and for their obedience, they were blessed by God with greater strength and wisdom than the other young men at the time. I had the feeling the Book of Daniel fast was set up to give greater blessings in the time of financial need that Pastor Jomo’s congregation was going through (and, I figured, if nothing else eating your veggies was at least healthier).

The restaurant was a bit noisy. I wondered how other people looked at us – the tall handsome black man and a guy asking him about religion. It’s funny that the two subjects that most people hold impolite for social settings are religion and politics – and here I was about to ask a lot about the former.

While I set up my microphone and iPod recorder, he tore into his salad. Pastor Jomo felt the call to start his church in July 27, 2008. “Prior to that the Lord put it in my heart, and for awhile I wasn’t sure and I kind of ran from it. After praying on it for awhile and fasting on it, I realized that’s what God wanted me to do.  Definitely a leap of faith, but God has been faithful in it.”

In my former religion, there was a whole procedure for how to join: first lessons, then a baptism and confirmation ordinances, being announced in church, various rituals on earning the power of God and so on. With Pastor Jomo, though, it was a little easier. “You have to be committed to the Covenant – and all that is is believe in God, and following the statues of the church. But anybody is welcome. We’re just a church based on following Christ’s model, and being disciples.”

Then I asked “Do you take the book literally, as in “the Earth is created in six days”, or more of a broad approach of ‘religion is there to explain things we don’t understand’- where does science meet in with religion?”

His answer was quick. “I believe that the Word of God is authority. I believe it literally as it is.”

There was a part of me right then that wanted to leap in with the challenge. How could you take it literally – from “six day creation” period, or “sun standing still”, or so many other things that were – if not impossible by science, at least thoroughly disproved has having ever occurred save for bronze age records written millennia ago. Why didn’t anyone else write about the sun standing still in the sky from other civilizations? Or why there was no recorded evidence of Herod slaughtering babies? Or any number of things that the Bible asserted that hadn’t proven true.

Of course, I butted against The Rules. I wasn’t there to argue – just ask my questions, get my answers, and then move on. Maybe it wouldn’t matter – usually these things devolve into a “God says this so it must be true,” and me saying “But the evidence completely opposes that” – and when someone doesn’t want to believe in evidence, there’s not much of a conversation you can have with them.

So I swallowed my objections, and went into the next question. “What’s the purpose of life?”

I don’t think I really asked this question of too many ministers. Over time, I couched it in a different way, as in “If there’s a person in your congregation that you consider to be a ‘good person’, what is that person doing in their lives that makes them good?” At this point, I hadn’t crafted that question yet, and so it remained pretty broad.

Pastor Jomo’s hardly hesitated. I wonder how often he had answered this question, or how often he had framed this question in his mind. “I believe the purpose of life is feel at the end of the day, when God’s planned the Earth – I think that’s the purpose of life. Ultimately for us to find our purpose on the Earth for which God has made us.”

He continued to eat his salad, but at this point, he focused less on his food and on me. The shift was gradual. Maybe he was just hungry, or nervous. Over time, I learned this wasn’t too unusual. People often started out hesitant, but as the interview went on, they warmed to their subject. As if they were gaining strength by talking about it.

I leaned in. “How do we do that?”

He waved his salad fork in the air. “First off get our relationship to Christ. … There are so many self help books trying to find out your purpose. You look at any bestseller list, it’s all about finding your purpose – the Why, the Why, the Why. And no one can figure out the Why. But until you find out – the Bible says ‘Every man has a gift.’ And your gift makes room for you. But until you tap out and go to the original maker of you to find out  what your goal and gift is, life can be frustrating for most people.”

I asked him about what he thought “sin” was. “Sin is falling short of the mark. There’s a particular target – sin says ‘you missed the mark. You’ve fallen short of the intended purpose.’ So sin is outside of God’s will. “

It turns out I was going to hear that phrase over and over and over again: “Sin is falling short of the mark.” I heard it from nearly every Christian group, and even from a Hindu Vedanta swami. It got to the point where I could almost predict the words about to come out of a minister’s mouth if I asked about “sin”.

He continued “It’s easily stated, hardly duplicated. It’s easy to say “I don’t sin,” but also the Bible says ‘We are born in sin.’ Thus Adam sinned, and we have all become sinners. So, it’s a challenge to understand we are flawed by nature.

“At the same time, striving for perfection that’s almost impossible to perfect. So, the Bible says ‘We are not complete until the day of Christ.’ So we’re all a work in progress. We all have issues and flaws that we’re working on. And we all sin. The goal in life is to limit your sin. To get to a place where you improve yourself so you sin less.

“That’s what I believe, because I’ve seen a great many people fall. All over the country. Leaders in all kinds – they all fall from a particular sin. So the goal is to develop your morals to protect yourself because we’re all susceptible. The question is do I develop an inner me to  fight that.”

I’m going to write about this later, but can I say I always hated the “man is born in sin” idea? Even when I was a Mormon, the idea that anyone is a “born sinner” drove me nuts. Where’s the accountability for my own actions not for some distant ancestor’s of mine? Last time I checked, I’m not paying for my grandfather’s debts – just my own.

But like I said, we’ll go more into this later.[4]

“How do we become forgiven of sin?”

“Just ask God for forgiveness.”

“That’s it?” This was actually a foreign concept. For small sins, sure, I was taught you pray to God for forgiveness, make some restitution. For bigger sins – like “touching a girl’s breast” or “voting for the Democrat[5]”, the Mormon church had entire internal courts for judging the sinfulness and the conditions of repentance of that person.

For Jomo, it was easier. “It’s pretty simple. That’s the challenge for me. People carry around all this baggage. And the Bible says in 1^st Peter ‘Cast all your sins upon me for I care for you.’ God wants to forgive you. He has so much mercy, that’s why we’re all still here. Because if he didn’t have mercy, we’d all be-

“It would be Noah’s flood all over again,” I interjected.

“It would be Noah’s flood all over again,” Pastor Jomo agreed. “He said once ‘I’ll never do that again.’ So his goal, at the end of the day, I think, we’re only around long enough so every person can have the opportunity to hear The Word. The whole world has not heard the story.”

“We’re only around long enough so every person can have the opportunity to hear The Word.” I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when that happened.

We moved on to the subject of the afterlife – what happens to people after they die. For me, I had determined that, well, nothing happened. For Pastor Jomo, it was a different story. He believed in Heaven and Hell, that those who believed in Jesus would go to Heaven. But he also believed there was mercy for the non-believers.

“What happens to people who aren’t Christians when they die? There are two classes – those who were exposed to the Word, and those who never heard it. The person who’s never heard the word is judged on their conscience…Now, if the person has full knowledge, when you’re judged, it’s based on full knowledge. Every action, every deed.”

Pastor Jomo kept going. “But the blessing is, to me, if you ask forgiveness, He forgot. Wiped slate.”                                                                                                                                                                        

“That’s it – just start over.” I said.

“That’s it.”

“Like an Etch-A-Sketch.”

“Like an Etch-A-Sketch.” He said.  “The only person who reminds you of your history is the devil. Think about it. God only judges us once. Whereas we judge every day. We’re always judging people.”

 “So you do believe in a devil then.”

“Absolutely.”

“If something like the devil and evil exists – why does God allow it?”

“I’ll give you a perfect example. Garden of Eden – God gives Adam everything. Adam thinks he’s smarter than God. Says “I’ll eat the fruit.” The Devil had no room in that. But you allow it in your life. You leave the backdoor open – somebody’s going to come in. Or you can shut the door. So Man let him in. God said “You have dominion. You have rule.” So you give it to someone else, you turn the keys over. You allow it. “

Pastor Jomo started to grow more animated as he went on. “It’s like the person said – look at all the hungry people. Look at all the sick people. God wouldn’t do that. And then he says, ‘Well, if America tithed, there’s be no lack in the world.’ Every need would be met.”

“You really think so.”

“Yes. But we don’t do it. We’re the most industrial country in the world. If we put 10% of our GDP into giving, there would be no lack. The end goal is that – you go into a barber shop, get your hair cut, and tell the person ‘you know what, I have a great church.’ And she says ‘Well, I don’t believe in God, I don’t believe in that junk.’ OK. You go outside, you think about it for awhile, you go back to her and say ‘Now, I don’t believe in a barbershop.’ And she says ‘What do you mean – I’m right here.” And you say “Well, look outside, there’s someone with long hair, they want to get a haircut.’ And she says ‘Well, I’m sitting right here!’ ‘Yeah, but you won’t come to me.’ There’s a lot of people with needs. But people don’t come. There’s people with jacked up hair everywhere who won’t get a haircut. It’s not that it’s not available, it’s because they won’t come. “

I was – dumbfounded. That sounded like one of the worst analogies I’d heard. This was the first test of my “religious poker face”, where I’d try to appear interested and understanding of what someone was saying, all the while thinking “Seriously?”

I can go to a barber shop and see a barber. So I know they exist. Every time I went to a church, or a temple, I failed to see God. Just other people.

I decided to move on. “What do you think the relationship is between church and state?”

“If you study history, the founding fathers – most of them were Christians. At that time, to be a lawyer you had to study the Bible first, before you were a lawyer. Everybody in that room as a lawyer. So they all had to have biblical knowledge before they became lawyers.”

Um. Well, not really. Washington wasn’t a lawyer, nor was Franklin. Some had medical degrees or degrees in theology. While many of them were versed in the Bible, the group ranged from the very religious to those who were against organized religion at all[6].

I let the subject be and let Pastor Jomo continue. “The whole foundation even though they still believed in slavery-“

“Big mistake there,” I said. Maybe I couldn’t quite appreciate what it was like to be a black man living in America, but I could certainly recognize the stupidity of actually writing in “slaves are worth 3/5ths of a ‘free’ person” into the Constitution. If God had been behind that document, he really screwed up at that part[7].

“Well, gray area. Little quibble on this one.” He laughed. “But – all the precepts were biblical. I think the foundation of our country was based on it. Why would you put it on a dollar bill? You can put anything in trust – that’s the first thing they printed. And everything else has been printed.”

 “But you know, we kind of want to stray off of that. If it was that invaluable, why would they put it on the bill? The thing that represents you. This is your representation. All around the world they call it The Dollar. So this is your foundational building block, and the #1 thing on there is “In God We Trust.” It’s kind of big that everyone else tries to hide around that, but that’s the reality. That was the building block. When we tried to use other ways to kind of finagle our way “It’s not in God we trust”, while right now in the world it’s “In Money we Trust.”

I clamped my mouth shut. “In God We Trust” wasn’t put on US coins until 1964[8] based on pressure put on the US Treasury department. In 1865, the ability to put “In God We Trust” was given to the Mint Director, with the Secretary of the Treasury’s approval, to put it on any coin they wanted.  It’s appeared and disappeared from US coins over time depending upon who was in the Treasury at the time.

Originally, the motto of the United States was “E Pluribus Unum” – “Out of Many, One.” A far more fitting description of the United States I would have thought. But the Founders certainly hadn’t set to stamp “In God We Trust” on every piece of government they could. But they sure did like their “Pyramids with one eye on top.”

Pastor Jomo kept going. “That’s what it should really be on the bill, because most folks don’t trust. They trust in their money,  like the guy who stole all that money –“

“Madoff?” I suggested.

“And now - $50 billion dollars. And the amazing thing is, there’s two billionaires that committed suicide within the last month. Because they lost their money. And as the Bible says, ‘the wealth of the wicked is laid up for the righteous.’” He was poking the air with his fork, his eyes locking on mine as he grew more animated.

“You lose it all, all this savings,  and then they kill themselves. Why? Because money is their tower. You’d think if you had a billion dollars, they’d have a million stashed away somewhere.” He laughed as he said the last part.

“I believe church and state from the beginning were interwoven. I think they work hand in hand. That’s what I believe on that.”

I decided to move on. “Do you think the world is getting better, do you think it’s getting worse, or do you think it’s just is what it is?”

“I think in some areas it’s getting better. In many areas it’s getting worse. I mean, for example, technology. Getting better. Health care – getting better from the technology. At the same time, I think we’re getting too smart.”

I frowned at the idea that people were getting “too smart.” “How so?” I encouraged.

“The smarter you get, the less you depend on God. Because you think you know it all. So therefore, at the same time that we’re the most educated country, we’re the most obese country. But we have the knowledge to exercise and eat right. It’s the same problem. We’re the smartest people in the world, we just don’t do it. We don’t do it. It’s that that we don’t know better, we know eating at McDonald’s all day we get fat. This is not an anomaly. We know if you don’t exercise you get high cholesterol. We know this! But yet we’re the most obese.

“Why? We have too much knowledge. And with the knowledge we just say ‘Well, I’ll get lipo.’ ‘I’ll just do this.’ All these artificial ways we try to fix it. When we know better. We don’t do better. And that’s my biggest challenge. I always say “If you know better, do better.” But for some reason, our people believe that they will not be judged for it.

“But you know what – whether the person believes in God or not, the funny thing is, at their death they all of the sudden become Christians. ‘If you can get me out of this one Oh Lord,’” Pastor Jomo chuckled. “But to me – I believe it’s an awesome journey. By no means does it make life – doesn’t mean you won’t go through things. We all go through things. It’s just having a peace about it as you go through it. And that’s the thing we don’t have. Peace. The Word.”

This answer actually made me a sad inside. Not everyone becomes “death bed converts” to Christianity. I mean, consider the non-Christian religions such as Judaism or Islam – pretty sure they don’t have that many death bed conversions to Jesus. Ignoring those, there are so many “did you hear about the atheist who turned to God at the last moment” stories that turned out to be fabricated by Christians you could probably fill a book with them. This claim that “every atheist upon their death bed becomes converted to religion” is a nice myth that the religious like to tell themselves. Like “there are no atheists in foxholes” or “no atheist has ever entered a birthing room or else they wouldn’t be atheists at seeing the miracle of birth.[9]”

I’ve seen the miracle of birth. It’s slimy. Dangerous at times. And if that’s “intelligent design” at work, then somebody better fire the contractor.

As we talked, I got an idea of how he moved into the ministry. He’d always been an independent contractor. Being in football, nothing was guaranteed – all that mattered was “can you play? Then you get paid. If not, go away.” If anything, it only strengthened his faith. “Coming from that environment, where at any moment you’re gone – to me, the Bible says ‘To live in the absence of faith is not pleasing God.’ What that basically means is that I should be on the limb at all times.”

This was the exact opposite of how I lived my life. Things planned down to the details, knowing exactly how long I’d be employed, making sure everything was safe and stable. Usually I’d have new jobs find me rather than setting out to find any. For Pastor Jomo, it was all about the risk, and if you have the faith, you’ll be taken care of.

I could tell that everything about being a minister wasn’t just preaching and roses. From his perspective, he was providing a service. “And that’s the thing that I realize that some people think that the ministry is a money grab. And that you’re using people and manipulating people. And I understand their point of view in regards to that. But the thing they don’t understand it when I’m ministering to a person, I am changing the emotion of what they have. Whatever baggage they came in, they’re leaving with a different kind of feeling. People have no problem paying to go see a shrink that has a PhD and telling them that ‘You’re stupid, get over it.’ And they’ll pay good money, and they’ll pay it every day – I don’t know what they pay per hour for that shrink to tell them ‘You need to buck up’ or ‘You need to tighten up’ or “you need to focus” or whatever it is – because I was a life coach and I know they paid me good money to be a life coach. For me to sit down with a person and say ‘This is what you have to look at right there,’ I do that for them – and there’s no charge. I don’t charge them for it. Cause it’s my calling. To help people.

“It’s funny that a person has no problem paying somebody else, but to help the ministry grow, some people have a problem with that. But it’s funny how when they go to their job they have no problem getting paid to do their work. But you know – when I go out with fliers and knock on doors, and spend all my day working on my sermons, but people don’t see that as work, that’s just suppose to be  - they just slam the door on me. But when they do to their job they want to get paid for it. It’s funny  how people have a double standard on that. It’s funny that they’re exciting to see players making millions of dollars, but it’s not a problem. But you can’t be blessed and serve the lord – you’ve got to be poor and broken. And beg people. I was never taught that you were suppose to beg for anything. They need to sow a seed more than I need to receive one. Because the Bible says ‘better to give than to receive.’”

I could sense his frustration. He worked hard. I had seen him in church, setting up the events, writing the lessons. He worked live prayer lines that would be open at 6 AM in the morning, every morning, where he’d pray for people in need. He had his fliers. His work in getting the word out about his church. His congregations needs. I remembered going door to door on my missionary splits as a teen, getting the door closed in my face. And that was when I was a teenager and didn’t worry about getting paid. Here, Pastor Jomo had a family to worry about. He was giving away his service, and hoping that God would recognize his efforts and at least make it all work out.

To do that, he had to ignore a lifetime of training not to beg, and humble himself to ask people for help and money. Offer them just his belief in God in exchange for whatever support they were willing to give. And trust that the difference would be made up.

Time for my last question. “If there was one thing you wish everyone was doing, one thing you think would really help the world, what would be that one thing you would want everyone to do?”

His answer was immediate. “Show more love. I really believe God is love. And if we can love each other, there are so many preconditions on love now. This is hard. And we have so many mindsets about people that are so destructive. We have so many walls to try and protect ourselves. Obviously I’m a tall guy, African American or black or whatever you want to call me,  it’s amazing how people look at me differently when I don’t dress up. You know – and it’s just like ‘Wow. I don’t know about them, but they already have a precondition.’ They’ve already got a set mindset of what I’m capable of. They don’t even know me. It’s so funny, when I used to travel around the country as a speaker, I set the room up, and sometimes someone would think I was the cleaning guy. And then I’d start speaking and they’re like ‘Wow, you can speak!’ It’s so funny a couple of years later I met a guy, he said ‘Man, you were good! But for most of the time I thought you were the cleaning guy.’”

He leaned cocked his head to the side, leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Preconceived. Love is the best without even knowing you. Love is the best. Love covers. I think if we had that mentality, we’d have a lot less strife. A lot less anger. We’re always mad, honking our horn, no grace, no mercy, hard to forgive. Everybody’s holding on to something. Everybody protecting themselves from somebody.  It’s a battle I’m waging: show more love.”

After the interview, I thanked him for his time. I wasn’t sure exactly what to think. I agreed with some of this ideas – that love is the best, and with that mentality, there would be a lot less strife.  I respected his passion, his drive, his ability to open himself up to other people. Other ideas, such as about the separation of church and state or evolution, I didn’t agree with – because they didn’t fit the evidence.

I wasn’t in this project to meet with people I agreed with, though. I was out to find out what people believed in, and whether I thought they were right or wrong was beside the point. I donned my hat and left him with his salad, his problems, and his faith, and set out to find my next religion to interview.

One down. 51 to go.