“Where is the Lord God of Elijah?” I heard Apostle Salimon shout and my body lost control. When I gained partial consciousness, my body was still not subjecting to me. I rolled uncontrollably on the floor hitting my body against the scattered plastic chairs.
My eyes caught a glimpse of some other bodies on the floor. For the next ten minutes, I kept rolling, my head trying at intervals to understand fully what had just happened to me.
“Peace… I speak peace.” I heard a feminine voice say and my body calmed. I looked up and saw her. I widened my eyes to be sure I was seeing well. Sister Lydia? What in the world was she doing here?
She begged for a hand from one of the sisters to help me up. It was then I saw the usher’s tag on her neck.
The meeting had come to an end for more than thirty minutes now. Yet, the groanings of young boys and girls on the floor had not ceased. At eighteen, this was the strangest thing I had ever witnessed. I see people fall down in churches on TV stations and I had always wondered what that was. “Why do they fall?” I had always queried in my mind. Now the question was “Why did I fall?”
“Esther, do stay back for counselling.” Sister Lydia whispered into my ears.
I checked my time to be sure that would be possible. It was few minutes past six. Mum and dad would be on their way back from the Saturday elder’s meeting and it would take me atleast fifteen minutes to get back home even if I took a taxi.
“I’m not sure I can.” I looked up to her and whispered back shaking my head. The last thing I wanted was to answer queries. First, it would be “why did tutorials take you too long today?” I wouldn’t want to lie. Then it would be “why would you attend a youth program outside our church without asking permission from us?”
The thought of what answer I would give to that question sent shivers down my spine. I really didn’t plan to attend the program. I was on my way home when I saw the big banner in front of the big cathedral beside my school. I couldn’t take my eyes off the banner until I found myself walking towards the entrance of the cathedral. For my parents, I know that explanation would not suffice. Mum would nag me to tears and dad would be so angry.
I tried to stand up and staggered back to the chair.
“I’m afraid Esther, you have to be patient. You are soaked.”
My heart skipped a beat. Not now. I can’t be stained. My head raced backward and I remembered seeing my period the previous week. Did it become irregular? I sat still hoping that she’ll return with a wrapper or something.
After about ten minutes, she walked back to my side and said “I think we are ready to go home now.”
“The stain?” I asked.
“Oh No! I didn’t mean you were… I was actually referring to being soaked with power.”
Whatever that meant, I wouldn’t know but it brought me relief that I wasn’t stained. This time standing was easier. She saw me to the park and requested that we catch up after Sunday service the following day.
Sister Lydia had always been a nice fellow. She was one of the youths instructors in our church that most youths loved and looked up to. Now I see why she’s so different. Maybe I’ll soon become like her. The thought of that gave me hope.
My elder brother opened the door for me. I greeted hurriedly and found my way to the kitchen to do the dishes. That could be the first thing that could catch mum’s attention and generate queries. I tried to take my mind off the dream I had when I fell at the cathedral but I couldn’t. My heart bubbled with joy and such peace that I didn’t know when I finished washing the dishes.
I walked back to the living room and there was my brother, James sitting on the couch and staring into space, his two arms locked into each other with a countenance like that of a hungry lion ready to devour its prey.
“Big bros. Are you okay?” I asked with concern.
He didn’t say a word. I tried to move closer and he roared. “Don’t come near me!”
“But why? Are you angry I didn’t come back early to cook? There’s food in the oven.” I said and He went dumb again.
I knew James had terrible anger issues. “When he’s angry, just go to your room and lock yourself in there till we’re home.” Dad had instructed me last month. That day, we were only arguing about the Jamb score for admission into his school, when he disconnected the TV plug from the wall and smashed it on the ground.
Remembering dad’s advice, I took a U-turn into my room and locked the door. I decided to thank God for how the day went. If not for anything, for this sweet experience that has filled my heart with so much joy. I opened my mouth and I closed it almost immediately. I opened it again.
“Thank you Fada—shimaskata – lekish — brazo – maleikishrataskibo…” I stopped.
“What gibberish am I saying?” my head asked.
“Your prayer language.” My mind replied.
Just then, I began to hear different sounds.
“Gbash… Gbo… Gba… sfewww…”
“Oh No! It can’t be what I’m thinking.” I stood up and moved swiftly to my door. Peeping through the door hole, my jaw dropped. The books from the book stand was scattered all over the floor. He picked up the harmer on the edge of the window and was about hitting the flat screened TV on the wall.
“What are you doing?” I said immediately I opened the door. He stopped and looked my way with such hatred and vigor.Then it dawned on me what I had just done. What if he throws the hammer at me? What was I thinking opening the door when mum and dad wasn’t back?
Fear gripped me and I literally shivered. I wanted to run back into my room. But the thought of him hitting me from the back wouldn’t let me. I heard some gibberish in my head. I gave in.
These time the words came out fluently and I spoke them out loudly. Whatever that was, it worked fine. He dropped the hammer and sat down on the floor maintaining strong eye contact.
…to be continued…
“But ye shall receive power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you… ” – Acts 1:8.
Written by Fruitful_E_John