Sowing For The Lord
The time was 2 pm when the man from The House of Healing and Revelation Ministries and his assistant were ushered into the office. A beefy man clad in a black suit that struggled to properly clothe his heavy, pudgy frame, he paused in the doorway and looked the place over – the deep blue-red tartan style rug, the venetian blinds, the leather armchairs, the large, deep brown mahogany desk, the big swivel chair behind it and the woman in the chair. Mrs. Magareth Obi. He sniffed in the cool, conditioned air in the office and smiled appreciatively, then lumbered across to the armchairs with an airy greeting: “A good evening to you, Mrs. Obi”.
He sat down with a sigh and turned to look at the door. As if on cue, his assistant came in then. A thin, dark-skinned young woman with a hooked nose than reminded one of the beak of a certain bird of prey. She walked ever so softly and gingerly, like she was afraid of stepping on and crushing ants. When she sat down beside him, she greeted Magareth, the woman whose office they were in, with this very squeaky voice but got no reply.
Magareth sat mute, waiting to hear what reason they had for requesting ten minutes of her very busy life.
”I m sure you must have heard of me,” the man started with a broad smile on his round chubby face.
Magareth had never heard of the man.
””But I will still introduce myself. I am Reverend, prophet, Bishop A.A. Okongwu. I have a Master’s degree actually in er –”
”Yes, yes, I have heard of you,” Magareth cut in, stealing a glance at her watch. ”What can I do for you?”
”Well ah, I think it’s about what we can do for you, actually,” he drawled.
‘‘What you can do for me?”
”Yes, exactly. Let me explain, I’ll need you to follow me, my every word.” He spoke in an authoritative way, with a voice that sought to get your mind captivated, riveted on every word it produced. ”Now here’s the thing – are you ready to hear it?”
Magareth stared blankly at him.
”Your life is in danger,” he announced in a theatrical manner with eyes narrowed to slits.
”I don’t understand – assassins?”
‘‘Assassins. I don’t know why or how, but an assassin has been contracted to take your life away from you.” The man was now talking quickly, his mouth moving fast like typewriter keys under the fingers of a very fast typist.
‘‘Something has to be done quickly, if not…” He let the sentence hang, and looked at her with an expression of dread on his face.
Magareth kept the blank look on, tried not to appear flustered. ‘‘This assassin thing you are talking about, how did you come about it?”
Reverend, Prophet, Bishop Okongwu turned to his assistant. ”Sister, tell her.”
The good sister ran her tongue over dry lips and began to squeak. ”Night of the twenty-first, in the temple, we had a vision about you. Lo and behold, you were on a low wet ground, with a shadowed assailant, armed with a dagger, a black dagger, coming after you.” Her voice had been magically lowered, but the squeakiness was still there. In her eyes, there was a faraway look, a dreamy one. ”You were distraught and…and…and you were wounded, I think, your right arm was bleeding, and…and…you kept calling a name. At first, your voice was low, almost inaudible – a moan actually. Then you screamed it out – The House of Healing and Revelation!”
The woman actually screamed the last words, startling Magareth Obi. Then she fell silent, albeit with a heavy sigh and a loud sniffing.
‘‘See?” the reverend said. ”You were calling on us to help you. I don’t know why you chose to call on our ministry for help, but let me assure you, you called on the right people. Now–”
‘‘Wait – wait – wait.” Magareth Obi felt like a migraine was coming for her already overburdened head. ”You are talking about a dream she had?” She gestured at the other woman.
”A vision, madam,” the assistant corrected immediately.
”Yes, exactly – a vision,” the reverend joined in. ”And the assassin we are talking about is not flesh and blood, madam. It is coming straight from hell. We call it demonic assassin. Now we want to help you, we want to pray for you, to prevent this assassin from getting you. But first, you must show the Lord some love.” He leaned forward and kept his hands on the table.
Magareth sat, waiting to hear how she could show ‘some love’ to the Lord.
”You must sow a seed to the Lord.”
”Hmm.” If only she hadn’t anticipated that.
”The Lord wants only one thing from you. Can you ask what it is?”
She gave him her blank stare and said nothing.
He was undeterred and went on anyway, ”The Lord wants a landed property from you.”
She gave him a sardonic smile and decided that the ten minutes they had requested was a waste of time.
”Or a car, a saloon car,” the reverend added with an earnest look on his face. ”I know it is a small thing for you madam, and don’t forget that you are doing it for the Lord.”
”Am I?” The mockery in her voice was unmistakable.
”We are talking about your life here Mrs. Obi. And let me make one thing clear for you…” Reverend, Prophet, Bishop Okongwu looked a bit like a desperate man. ‘‘If you do not do the Lord’s will, you will lose your life before the end of this month. It is a fact. The assassin is real.”
”Aha.” Margareth didn’t bother concealing the dismissive look on her face now. ”Is it?”
Written by Ifeanyi Gaius Samuel