Short Story: Beloved In Christ (Part Five)
 |
| blog.cph.org |
The church service came to an end. Maa Christy walked me to the pastor’s office. His loyal ushers welcomed us in. We had taken our seats already when Pastor Ntim came. He asked his ushers go outside, as he sorts to have a one-on-two consultation with us.
“Good afternoon, Pastor. This is my daughter, the one I gave a lucid account about her, that she has graduated from high school with flying colours. “You are?” the man of God asked. “Adukwei Aworka.” “I am happy that you would be worshiping with us. I thank God for giving your life to Christ and being a born again.”
In fact, I had not disclosed anything to him so I was petrified that he might have seen the evil which lives after me. What if he tells my mother that I have rotten like pawpaw? Phew, he only smiled at me. Other dialogue went on before we called it a day.
Coming out from his office, I had this feeling inside me that this man must be very powerful, understanding, intelligently reliable and confidential. He is the type of a pastor I can trust. I vowed that I will take his church as my one and only. Because had it been my father’s church I would have been lampooned.
When I was in junior high school, there was a couple whose wedding was delayed owing to a rumor which came through that the bride was a month pregnant. The church demanded for a pregnancy test and all. The High Priest said he was not ready to bless a shotgun wedding. Seen? So, my father’s church does not compromise the tenets of God. They can go to the extreme to instill discipline. God must be happy with them. People like Mr. Aworka must be uprooted from their church, for they have frowned on their family and rather walk smiling with outsiders.
I was at the car park, now waiting for my mother to come for us to go home. The more she delays, the more we lose car owners who could give us a free ride. That notwithstanding, I know Maa Christy, she is the type that greets everyone she would meet on her way.
So I have been standing at the car park, reading messages Tsotovo had sent me after breaking up unceremoniously with him, with the intention that I have given my life to Christ and so he should also repent and undress the hell out of himself, then a certain gentleman patted softly at me on my back. It was not a concern for me to even take a look at him; Tsotovo was threatening me with leaking my nudes so I was unfazed about this attention seeking gentleman. He was saying that if we are not coming back he will have them leaked. ‘Oh, how?’
Then all I would hear this time round from the gentleman who had patted me early on, “Beloved.” I pretended I had not heard him. “Beloved. Beloved in Christ,” he sounded more engagingly now. If not that I had given my life to Christ and that he had mentioned Christ’s name I do not think I would have given him a hearing. But for Christ’s sake, I turned to have a look at him. I hid the bored me and he could see only the good. “Why have you secluded yourself, ‘Beloved in Christ’? The way he mentions ‘Beloved’, it sounded so angelically, as though it is angel Gabriel advising Satan to go and seek repentance from God.
Now all I could hear him say, “‘The Beloved’ are about to hold a meeting and I know you are a youth so I was thinking you would need to join us. Please, do not worry yourself; even new comers here are regarded as pioneers; you are at home, sister. Feel free! We want to build together with you. By the way I am Kpebu.” “Okay. I am Adukwei.” He opened his palm and I gave my left palm out. He said: “it is my pleasure. Let me walk you to the meeting room.” I was like ‘this one is over confident!’ Just the first time of seeing me and he has already begun ingratiating.
The ‘Beloved In Christ’ is a youth prayer wing of Final Stage Ministries. It’s made up of all youths from 18-30 years. Their core mandate is evangelical services. They also meet to discuss the youth developmental plan for the church. I have seen them organise some sporting activities and heard them on radio before. Maa Christy is so proud of them.
TO BE CONTINUED...
By Abdul Rahman Odoi
Copyrights Reserved.@2022
#storiestoldAreNotInnocent
(UNEDITED)
NB: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Post a Comment