Since I gave my life to Christ, I have been trying really hard to keep my anger in check. I figured out joining the ushering unit in church might help me overcome this very habit. Sincerely, it was working, and I was eager, looking forward to every new Sunday and a privilege to officiate in this newly loved found unit. Little did I know, the devil was going to attend service the next Sunday, and the first person to greet him would be me.
“Welcome to church,” I greeted him warmly, a dark, lanky-looking fellow. His eyes ignored me and he was strolling around looking for only God knows what.
“Ah, finally, a free socket!!!” Our both eyes tilted towards the wall located at the extreme end of the church, and what seemed like an endless search from the beginning was an electric wall socket. He made an attempt to jump the barricades that prevent church members from occupying seats that were by the sides, but I held him by the arm and let out a soft smile.
“You are not allowed to do that; there are empty chairs at the front.” He looked at me with such disgust and piercing eyes that make you want to flinch, but I have seen much worse.
“Nah your papa build this church. I dey pay my tithe make I tell you and I fit sit anywhere way I like.” He confronted me with so much justification.
I let out a smirk with a straight face and pointed to the front seats yet to be occupied. I could feel a burning sensation rising within me, and I knew keeping quiet was for the best.
“See this guy o? Nah me you dey point chair give? He be like you never hear my score? Your father no fit even”… That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You mentioning my father was a ticket to getting yourself killed. It was swift and precise, a flip done with the aid of my shoulder sent him crashing into piles of arranged chairs. The church’s attention was drawn to the place of the incident and the groaning of this uncultured man. My judo classes paid off, but the place of execution was absolutely wrong.
Fast forward.
I and the victim of circumstances appeared before the General Overseer and other associate pastors, all glittering in their designer suits and shiny faces.
“What were you thinking choke slamming a church member who came here to find God?” The G.O fired at me.
“Sir, he came here to find a spot to charge his phone, not God, and secondly, it wasn’t a choke slam but a flip throw.” I justified myself.
“Flip throw, choke slam, what is the difference?” He paused for a while with his right palm across his face.
“My fellow pastors, what do I do about this unit member?” He sought their views on the subject matter, and their opinions poured out like water from a broken dam. Then came a silence ushered in by the waving hand of the G.O.
“I think he should be suspended and stripped of every unit responsibility for the next six months.” A chubby, middle-height, well-fed pastor spoke amidst the silence.
I gazed at him with all seriousness, folded my arms and asked him. “With all due respect, sir, have you ever been choked slammed before?” The room went quite with pastors stealing glances at each other.
- Eddypaul
- StoryVest
