That Sunday, Genesis went back to Grace Assembly. After his chance meeting with Abbey on Friday, he was sure she wasn’t the right prey. He didn’t need someone who knew how to manipulate a conversation, who made him feel like he wasn’t in charge. Her promise of a date cum appointment was the last straw. He went home that night thinking about her and wondering what her messed up story was; how had she come to sing in a club, to be so familiar with the setting?
His friends had badgered him with questions that he didn’t want to answer when he returned to their table that night.
Who was she? Had they met before?
Tango was bitter that she had created a subdued atmosphere in the club for the rest of the evening. The few people who talked loudly and ordered several rounds of drinks were those who had missed her performance.
Tango went as far as to scold the club manager for letting her sing that song.
‘Whitney must have sung it when she was high on something and was seeing angels,’ he joked.
The club manager had in turn told him that some of their guests had requested her return. Genesis was silent as activity swirled around him.
The prospect of seeing her again was tempting, he had to admit. There was something about her he found fascinating. Maybe it was those eyes of hers that told a story of their own, with pain lurking in its depth.
He wanted to know her, wanted to know what made her tick, wanted to touch her beneath her long-sleeved, turtle-necked shirts.
Most of all, he wanted to break her. She gave the impression that she had everything put together, that she was a strong woman. He wanted to peel away that façade and see what was behind the mask. Surely, it was a mask.
When he got home that night, he drifted into a dreamless sleep after making up his mind to not call her.
She was used goods; someone else’ wife. It didn’t matter that her husband was dead. Heck, she still wore her wedding band!
On Sunday he found himself in Grace Assembly to continue his search.
However as the service progressed, he found himself glancing behind occasionally. At first he didn’t know why he kept doing it until he figured it out. He was looking to see if Abbey would walk in the door and march to her seat like the previous Sunday.
She didn’t.
He wasn’t disappointed, he told himself as the Pastor mounted the altar for his sermon. The lady seating in front of him looked like a good enough prospect, at least from the back. He would make his move today, somehow. He had wasted enough time.
‘Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy-laden and I would give you rest,’ the Pastor quoted. He was wearing a navy-blue suit and a sky-blue shirt that matched his polka-dotted tie.
Genesis liked his dress sense. He could bet it was the wife who had put it together, or some eager devotee had sowed it into the Pastor’s life.
‘Brethren, we need to be in Christ’s rest. That’s the only place we can be assured of peace and safety. The enemy is constantly at work to prove that you made the wrong decision the moment you accepted Christ. The Bible says he is like a roaring lion, looking for whom to devour. Would you be his net prey? Would you let him succeed at tearing you down? Paul makes it clear that we should not be ignorant of the devices of the enemy!’
Genesis winced, uncomfortable. Why did he feel like this man was talking to him, about him?
Paranoia, that’s what it was. No one else knew his mission here.
And he didn’t believe in the Holy Spirit doing amebo. Maybe back in the days of Ananias and Saphirra. But even then, he could swear that something in Ananias demeanor had given him away to Peter.
He settled in his seat, consciously drifting away. He didn’t need a sermon that made him feel like the devil.
Well, he had to admit the Pastor had small swag. Not too much, no permed hair or some large bling-bling hanging around his neck.
Genesis didn’t know why those things put him off. To him it was like Pastors who did such were trying too hard to throw off attention from what they had on the inside and draw more attention to how they looked on the outside.
The logic was probably this; if they could keep the audience focused on the myriad of distractions on the outside, then they wouldn’t probe too deep to know how much of the content was inside.
They would jump; do their theatrics to elicit enough noise from the congregation. They fed on the chants of ride on pastor and tell us, tell us. The people would eventually leave church exhausted on the outside and empty on the inside. God knows, he had seen enough of that.
He remembered a time he had come home for holidays from the university. He was eighteen then and already forming an opinion on his mother’s religion. She had however forced him to attend a program with her.
The guest speaker had turned out to be one of the motivational speakers that Genesis had already become familiar with.
‘Drop everything you have at the feet of the Master and see if He would not answer!’ the speaker said as he rounded up his sermon.
Which Master exactly? Genesis wanted to ask, but he had kept mum while his mother emptied the contents of her purse on the altar.
‘Remember the widow’s mite? Remember the widow, children of God, remember the widow!’ the speaker kept singing while tapping the side of his leg with his hand.
When the service was over that night, Mum had no transport to go home.
‘Geegee, abeg you get money for there? Don’t worry, when this seed manifests, I will do you well eh?’
‘Which seed, Mummy? Don’t yu know a scam when you see one? What if I wasn’t here and I didn’t have money, shebi you’ll trek home?’
She hadn’t answered then, when she did, it was to scold him.
‘Shebi it’s because you have gone to school you think you can now outthink God? Biko, let’s go home and don’t tell me nonsense. Don’t use your mouth to destroy my seed, eh?’
Genesis chuckled to himself as he remembered that incident. He had certainly seen it all, he thought.
‘Are you okay brother?’ someone asked.
He looked over at the questioner; his seatmate, a lady in a bright pink dress, was looking sternly at him.
‘Why?’ he responded.
Before she could respond, an usher strolled by, glaring pointedly at them.
Genesis sighed and returned his attention to the sermon. All these oversabis sha. Mtchew.
‘All heads bowed, all eyes closed. If you know that deep inside you, you feel an emptiness, a need to enter into Christ’s rest; just obey God’s voice and answer the call. Just step forward, don’t be ashamed. The bible says if you’re ashamed of me here on earth, I would be ashamed of you on that day. Come forward and we would pray with you. Step into his rest.’
Genesis thought the Pastor was being too desperate about his altar call. C’mon he didn’t have to say all those words in one breath na.
And why did altar calls have to sound so clichéd? Why say the ashamed thingy or the heads bowed, eyes closed?
Whoever wanted to obey the call would do so regardless of the eyes staring at him/her.
‘Don’t waste any more time. This is an opportunity of a life time…’ the Pastor continued, ‘thank you sister….ah, thank you brother…’
Genesis waited, bidding his time. He had positioned his head in a way that he could see a cross section of the congregation, especially those who were answering the call.
And then, just as the Pastor was about to close the gates of heaven, Genesis stood.
And began to make his way to the front.
The hunt had just begun.
To Be Continued…
Mimi .A.