Chapter Five - Maya: A New Sunday
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Maya woke up three minutes before her alarm.
She knew because she stared at the ceiling for exactly three minutes waiting for it to go off.
When it finally vibrated against the nightstand, she reached for it before the second buzz.
Beside her, Josiah didn’t move.
Maya turned her head.
He was asleep on his stomach, one arm tucked beneath his pillow, the other stretched across the space between them like sometime during the night he’d forgotten which half of the bed belonged to him.
Apparently, marriage had not improved his awareness of boundaries while unconscious.
She carefully lifted his arm and placed it back on his side.
He immediately moved it back.
Maya stared at it.
Then at him.
Nothing.
She moved it again.
This time Josiah made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a complaint and rolled away from her.
Better.
Maya slipped out of bed.
The clock read 5:32.
Sunday.
For years, Sunday mornings had followed the same rhythm.
Wake up early.
Pray.
Get dressed.
Check the service order even though she’d already checked it Saturday night.
Drink enough water to survive rehearsal, worship and whatever Pastor Brooks decided to add to the service without warning.
And, most importantly, don’t waste her voice talking before she needed it.
She’d learned that one the hard way.
Maya grabbed her robe from the back of the chair and headed toward the bathroom.
Then stopped.
Her clothes.
She looked toward the closet.
Somewhere inside were three boxes she had absolutely intended to unpack yesterday.
She hadn’t.
Maya closed her eyes.
This was why she didn’t procrastinate.
Behind her, Josiah shifted.
She froze.
Silence.
Still asleep.
Good.
She slipped into the closet and turned on the light.
Ten minutes later, Maya was sitting on the floor surrounded by clothes, one shoe and a growing irritation with whoever had packed the box labeled SUNDAY.
Her.
She had packed it.
That somehow made it worse.
She finally found the dress she wanted beneath two blouses and a cardigan she didn’t remember putting in the box.
The second shoe was nowhere to be found.
Maya stared into the box.
“No.”
A voice came from the bedroom.
“What happened?”
She winced.
So much for not talking.
“Nothing.”
There was a pause.
Then, sleep-heavy, “Didn’t sound like nothing.”
Maya stepped out of the closet.
Josiah had rolled onto his back and was looking at her through barely open eyes.
His gaze moved from her to the shoe in her hand.
Then back to her.
“You lost the other one?”
Maya pointed at her throat.
He stared at her.
She pointed again.
Understanding slowly crossed his face.
“Oh.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Worship leader.”
Maya nodded.
Josiah nodded too.
Then whispered, “Should I not talk either?”
She looked at him.
“That’s not how that works.”
His mouth curved.
“Made you talk.”
Maya narrowed her eyes.
Josiah pulled the blanket higher and closed his eyes, entirely too pleased with himself.
She went back into the closet.
Her shoe was in the next box.
Of course it was.
By six, Maya had showered and dressed, and Josiah was still asleep.
That part felt familiar.
The rest didn’t.
She stood at the bathroom counter applying the last of her makeup, surrounded by things that belonged to both of them now.
Different mirror.
Different counter.
Josiah’s toothbrush beside hers.
His things mixed with hers.
Yesterday morning, this hadn’t been their routine yet.
Today it was.
Or at least the beginning of one.
Maya walked downstairs with her Bible, planner and water bottle tucked against her chest.
The kitchen was still dim.
Normally, this was the part of Sunday morning when she turned on worship music. Not loudly, but loud enough to fill the apartment while she made tea and mentally walked through the service.
Her hand reached automatically toward her phone.
Then she looked upstairs.
Josiah was sleeping.
Right.
Maya reached into her bag, pulled out her earbuds and put one in.
Another adjustment.
Small.
Almost insignificant.
Still an adjustment.
She started the playlist.
That would work.
Maya set her Bible on the counter, opened her planner beside it and looked over the service order she’d already memorized.
Opening song.
Scripture.
Prayer.
Worship set.
Offering.
Message.
Altar call.
Everything was where it was supposed to be.
Maya liked when things were where they were supposed to be.
Her eyes drifted toward the cabinet.
Two different places for glasses.
She smiled despite herself.
Apparently, she was learning to make exceptions.
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
A few minutes later, Josiah appeared in the kitchen wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, his hair flattened slightly on one side.
He looked personally offended by being awake.
“Why are you a person already?”
Maya smiled.
He walked past her toward the coffee maker.
“Don’t answer that. I know. Voice.”
She gave him a thumbs-up.
Josiah stopped.
“Are you going to do this until you get to church?”
She nodded.
“This might be the most peaceful Sunday morning I’ve ever had.”
Maya kicked him lightly in the ankle.
Josiah laughed.
Then, without another word, he reached for the sugar.
Maya watched him add one spoonful.
Then another.
Then another.
She shook her head.
He caught her looking.
“What?”
Maya pointed at the mug.
“It’s coffee.”
She held up three fingers.
“Three is reasonable.”
Her expression said otherwise.
Josiah took a sip.
“See? Perfect.”
Maya shook her head and went back to her planner.
For a few minutes, they existed quietly in the kitchen together.
Maya reviewing notes.
Josiah drinking something that barely qualified as coffee.
Neither one needing anything from the other.
It was nice.
Different.
But nice.
Then Josiah looked at the clock.
“What time are you leaving?”
“Seven-thirty.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“That early?”
Maya looked at him.
He raised both hands.
“Sorry. Forgot who I married.”
She smiled.
“What time do you leave?”
“Around eight-thirty.”
Maya nodded and looked back down at her planner.
Then stopped.
Eight-thirty.
She was leaving at seven-thirty.
He was leaving at eight-thirty.
It shouldn’t have felt strange.
They both knew where the other served. They’d known before the wedding.
Nothing about this morning was a surprise.
And yet Maya realized she’d somehow pictured Sunday differently.
Not specifically.
She hadn’t imagined them sitting beside each other in a pew or walking through the same church doors.
She simply hadn’t imagined them leaving the same house an hour apart and driving in opposite directions.
Married.
Together.
Going separately.
Josiah leaned against the counter.
“This is weird.”
Maya looked up.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one thinking it.
“A little.”
He nodded.
There wasn’t anything to solve on their first Sunday morning under the same roof.
Maya had responsibilities at her father’s church.
Josiah had responsibilities at his.
Those things had existed before their marriage.
They still existed now.
What marriage would eventually ask them to do with that was a question for another day.
Today, they simply had to learn how to be married on a Sunday.
At seven twenty-three, Maya stood at the front door checking her bag for the third time.
Bible.
Planner.
Water.
Cough drops.
Phone.
Chargers.
Josiah watched from the kitchen.
“You know you’re going to church, right?”
Maya looked at him.
“Not the airport?”
She zipped her bag.
“Because if you need your passport, I can help you look.”
“Very funny.”
Josiah smiled.
“Voice must be warmed up.”
“Unfortunately.”
He laughed and walked toward her.
Maya reached for the doorknob, but he caught her hand before she could open it.
“Wait.”
She looked at him.
His expression softened.
“Can I pray for you before you go?”
Maya paused.
Sunday mornings had always included prayer.
Her own.
Prayer with the worship team.
Prayer before they walked onto the platform.
But this was new.
She nodded.
Josiah kept her hand in his.
“Father, thank you for Maya. Thank You for the gift You’ve given her and the people she’ll lead this morning. Help her remember that she doesn’t have to carry the service. That’s your job.”
Maya closed her eyes.
“Give her peace. Give her wisdom. Protect her voice, settle her mind, and let everything she does point people back to you.”
His thumb moved once over the back of her hand.
“And please let everybody show up on time.”
Maya opened one eye.
Josiah’s mouth twitched.
“In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen.”
He released her hand.
“Everybody showing up on time was important.”
“It was.”
“Very spiritual.”
“I know your people.”
Maya laughed as she stepped outside.
“Bye, Josiah.”
“Have a good service.”
“You too.”
She pulled the door closed behind her.
And leaving him to go to church didn’t feel quite as strange as it had a few minutes ago.
Maya pulled into the parking lot of Kingdom Life Fellowship at 7:48.
Several cars were already scattered across the lot.
Good.
She parked in her usual spot and sat for a moment before reaching for her things.
Same building.
Same parking lot.
Same Sunday-morning quiet before the sanctuary filled with people.
And yet she’d left home this morning as somebody’s wife.
Maya glanced at the ring on her left hand.
That was going to take a while.
She grabbed her Bible, planner and water and headed inside.
The building wasn’t quiet once she opened the door.
Someone was vacuuming farther down the hallway. Music drifted from the sanctuary, stopping every few seconds as one of the musicians worked through something. Voices carried from somewhere near the sound booth.
Maya smiled.
Now this felt like Sunday.
She pushed open the sanctuary doors.
“Look who decided to come back.”
Nia stood on the platform with a microphone in her hand, smiling much too widely.
“I was gone one Sunday.”
“And?”
“And y’all survived.”
“Barely.”
Maya laughed as she walked down the aisle.
Another voice came from behind the keyboard.
“We did just fine.”
“Thank you,” Maya said.
“Don’t encourage him,” Nia said. “He changed something Thursday.”
Maya stopped.
“He did what?”
The keyboardist looked completely unbothered.
“You’ll like it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Maya set her things on the front pew.
“How’d rehearsal go?”
“Good.”
She waited.
“That sounded suspicious.”
“It was good.”
“Then why am I hearing about changes?”
“Because you asked.”
Maya stared at him.
Someone laughed behind her.
She shook her head and climbed onto the platform.
This was exactly why she didn’t like missing rehearsal.
Not because she thought everything would fall apart without her.
It hadn’t.
That was the point.
All five of them could lead. Any one of them could step forward when someone else couldn’t. Maya carried more of the responsibility for organizing the worship ministry, but the ministry wasn’t built around her.
Still, there was something strange about coming back to a set everyone else had already rehearsed.
She’d known what they were singing. She’d seen the order before leaving for the honeymoon.
But knowing the songs and knowing what the team had worked out were two different things.
Maya picked up her microphone.
“All right. What did y’all change?”
The keyboardist played the section.
The drummer joined him.
Then the bass.
Nia came in with the melody.
Maya’s eyebrows lifted.
Okay.
She liked it.
Unfortunately.
The keyboardist saw her face.
“Exactly.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t get excited.”
“Too late.”
Maya shook her head.
“I leave for one honeymoon and everybody gets creative.”
“You got married,” Nia said. “We had to make decisions.”
“For one Sunday?”
“It was a difficult time.”
Maya laughed.
“All right. Do it again.”
They did.
This time Maya joined them.
The change was simple, but it gave them more room moving into the next song.
She lowered her microphone.
“Okay.”
The keyboardist grinned.
“Okay what?”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine?”
“Do you want me to change my mind?”
“Nope.”
“Then let’s move on.”
Maya reached for her water.
She’d missed this.
Not the platform.
Not even the music exactly.
Them.
They had learned one another over time.
Who needed a look when a change was coming.
Who would catch a harmony without being told.
Who could take over if somebody’s voice wasn’t cooperating.
Who knew when to keep going and when to pull back.
That kind of trust couldn’t be built during a sound check.
Her phone buzzed on the front pew.
Maya glanced toward it but didn’t move.
“Where’s Tasha?”
“She texted me,” Nia said. “She’s about ten minutes out.”
Maya looked at the clock.
Eight-oh-three.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. She overslept.”
Maya closed her eyes.
There it was.
First Sunday back.
“Her part’s covered until she gets here.”
Maya opened her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Already got it.”
Of course she did.
Maya nodded and lifted her microphone.
“Let’s start from the opening song.”
The drummer counted them in.
The empty sanctuary filled with music.
And Maya listened.
She couldn’t just sing.
She was listening to the musicians and the voices around her. Whether everyone came in together. Whether the words were clear. Whether one voice was overpowering another. Whether the music gave them room to lead instead of forcing them to chase it.
And while she listened, she still had to sing.
The opening went smoothly.
They moved into the worship set.
Halfway through, Nia lifted her hand.
The music stopped.
“We’re rushing that change.”
“I heard it too,” Maya said.
The drummer nodded. “Let’s do it again.”
They backed up and tried it.
Better.
Again.
This time nobody had to say anything.
They knew.
Maya checked the time.
There was an order to the service, and every part of it mattered.
Worship couldn’t be reduced to minutes on a clock, but their responsibility wasn’t to take as much time as they could.
It was to lead well with the time they had.
Her father needed room to preach.
There needed to be room at the altar afterward.
And sometimes the plan changed.
A song went longer.
A song got cut.
Her father stepped in.
Prayer shifted something.
Sometimes what they’d rehearsed wasn’t what the moment needed at all.
Prepare.
But hold the preparation loosely.
By the time Tasha slipped through the sanctuary doors, the team was well into rehearsal.
She hurried toward the platform.
“I’m sorry.”
“We got you,” Nia said.
Tasha nodded, grabbed her microphone and quietly joined them.
No scene.
No embarrassment.
They’d talk later.
Maya took a sip of water while the musicians worked through something among themselves. Nia checked with the sound booth while another worship leader went over a harmony with Tasha.
Maya smiled.
This was what she wanted.
“Let’s run the last one.”
They took their places.
The music started.
They made it through the first section, then the next.
Everything sounded good.
Musically, they were ready.
Maya lowered her microphone.
The others gradually stopped.
“Hold on.”
The sanctuary quieted.
“We’ve been in here working on songs this whole time.”
Someone nodded.
“And we sound good.”
The keyboardist smiled. “Thank you.”
Maya gave him a look.
A few people laughed.
“That’s not where I was going.”
“I know.”
She smiled, then looked around at them.
“We know what we’re doing. We know the songs. Everybody knows their part.”
Her eyes moved over the empty sanctuary.
“But I don’t want us to spend all morning getting ready to lead everybody else into worship and never take a minute to get ourselves there.”
The room grew still.
Maya set her microphone down.
“Can we pray?”
There was no hesitation.
They stepped away from their microphones and instruments and gathered together in the center of the platform.
Maya reached for the hand beside hers.
Someone else began to pray.
Maya closed her eyes.
The clock was still running.
The doors would open soon.
There were still things to check.
But for the next few minutes, none of that belonged to her.
She was simply someone who needed God too.
When they finally let go of one another's hands, Maya reached for her microphone with a quieter mind.
“All right,” she said.
“Let's finish.”
By the time they finished rehearsal, people had started arriving.
Conversations drifted in from the foyer. A child ran past the open sanctuary doors before somebody called him back. Ushers moved through the aisles. Someone from media tested the Scripture slide.
Sunday morning had officially started.
Maya checked the time.
“Stop looking at the clock.”
She looked over at Nia.
“I looked once.”
“Sure.”
“You were counting?”
“I didn’t have to.”
Maya reached for her water.
“Don’t you have something to do?”
“I do. Apparently, keep you from stressing yourself out before service.”
“I’m not stressed.”
Nia gave her a look.
Maya took a drink of water.
“Go away.”
Laughing, Nia headed toward the sound booth.
Maya’s phone vibrated.
Chloe: You at church?
Maya stared at the message.
Maya: Where else would I be?
Chloe: Just checking 😂
Maya: Where are you?
Chloe: Walking in.
Maya slipped her phone into her bag.
A minute later, she spotted Chloe near the sanctuary doors, talking to the drummer.
He said something that made her laugh.
Maya smiled to herself.
Then Chloe reached out and touched his arm.
Maya’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
Interesting.
Chloe said something else before heading toward her usual seat. The drummer returned to his kit, and neither of them noticed Maya watching.
She made a mental note to ask Chloe about that later.
Right now, she had a service to lead.
“Maya.”
She turned.
Nia stood near the side door.
“Five minutes.”
Maya picked up her microphone and joined the other worship leaders.
All five were there now.
Tasha included.
“Ready?” Nia asked.
“As I'm going to be.”
The opening music began.
And Maya felt it.
That familiar tightening in her chest just before she stepped onto the platform.
She knew the songs. She knew the people beside her. They'd rehearsed and prayed together.
None of that stopped her hands from getting cold.
It irritated her that she could lead worship Sunday after Sunday and still feel nervous when it was time to walk out.
Apparently, her body hadn't received the memo that she knew what she was doing.
“You good?” Nia asked.
Maya nodded.
Nia squeezed her hand once.
Then the cue came.
They walked out.
The sanctuary was full now. Maya took her place, glanced toward the musicians, and lifted her microphone.
The nerves didn’t disappear when the music started.
They rarely did all at once.
She’d learned not to wait for fear to leave before doing what she’d been called to do.
So she sang.
By the time they finished the opening song, the tightness in her chest had begun to ease.
Scripture followed.
Then prayer.
And when the worship set began, Maya was ready.
The team moved through the songs they'd rehearsed. Tasha took the lead on one, Nia on another, and Maya found herself smiling as the congregation sang with them.
Near the end of the set, the musicians brought the music down.
Maya lifted her microphone.
“God, we thank You for meeting us here.”
She looked out over the sanctuary.
“We came in carrying different things this morning. Different weeks. Different burdens. Different prayers.”
Someone said amen.
“But You're the same God.”
Maya closed her eyes.
“And we don't have to manufacture Your presence. We just have to make room for You.”
The words stayed with her.
Make room.
Maya opened her eyes.
“Come on. Let's worship.”
Offering followed the worship set.
Then her father's message.
Maya sat with her Bible open, grateful for the chance to listen instead of thinking about what came next.
When Pastor Brooks stepped away from the pulpit for altar call, the worship team returned to the platform.
The musicians began softly beneath his invitation.
People made their way toward the altar.
Maya sang with the others, watching her father for a cue. When he motioned for them to continue, they did. When he signaled for the music to come down, the musicians followed.
They’d rehearsed the song.
But you couldn’t rehearse people responding to God.
Maya lowered her microphone as her father began praying.
For once, she wasn’t thinking about what needed to happen next.
She was simply worshiping.
When the prayer ended, the team stepped off the platform.
As she stepped off the platform, Tasha caught up with her.
“Maya.”
She turned.
“I really am sorry about this morning.”
“I know.”
“My alarm went off. I turned it off and—”
“And made a bad decision.”
Tasha laughed quietly.
“Basically.”
Maya smiled.
“You know I don’t expect perfection.”
“I know.”
“But we depend on each other.”
Tasha nodded. “It won’t happen again.”
“Okay.”
Tasha hesitated.
“We good?”
“We’re good.”
She smiled and walked away.
“Maya!”
One of the older women from the church was making her way toward her.
“Baby, worship was beautiful this morning.”
“Thank you.”
“No, I’m telling you. That last song—”
Maya smiled as the woman talked.
“I’m glad it blessed you.”
“It did.”
She squeezed Maya’s hand before moving on.
After that came a question about next Sunday, a quick conversation with media, and one of the musicians asking about a song they’d discussed before Maya left for the honeymoon.
This was the part of Sunday nobody put on the service order.
After.
By the time Maya made it back to the front pew, most of the sanctuary had emptied.
She sat down for a moment.
Her planner rested beneath her Bible.
She’d spent years learning the rhythm of Sunday morning.
Getting married hadn’t taken it away.
She was still here.
Still serving.
Still leading.
Still herself.
But this morning, worship music had played through earbuds because Josiah was sleeping upstairs.
They had two departure times.
Two churches.
And before she’d walked out the door, her husband had held her hand and prayed over her.
Their Sundays didn’t look the same. But they were already finding ways to be part of each other’s.
“Maya?”
She looked up.
Her father stood a few rows away.
“You ready?”
She glanced toward the nearly empty sanctuary.
“For what?”
He smiled.
“Your mother said if I leave this building without you, I’m going to hear about it.”
Maya laughed and stood.
“I’m coming.”
She slipped her planner into her bag and picked up her Bible.
For years, Maya had known exactly what Sunday looked like.
She still did.
There was simply more to make room for now.