Me Too
He had tried to get out of it. At six o’clock that morning when Nobert called, he had told him all his church clothes were dirty. He’d gone back to sleep, convinced the hound was off his back. There was no chance he was going to drag him to the 31st Night service. Now, twelve hours later, there he was, at his house, to do exactly that.
“I told you I’m not going, right?”Promise shut the door to his bedroom.
Norbert pulled something out of the polyethene bag he was holding. “I got you something to wear.”
A C.Y.O-branded T-shirt. Promise sighed. Why couldn’t he just leave him alone like the others?
“I can’t take this, Norbert.”
“Oh why? It’s new o.”
“That’s not it.” He sat on his bed. “I have a lot to do right now and I don’t want to make you late.”
Norbert shrugged. “Mass will start at eight. I’ll help with your chores so we can still make it in time.”
Robert snapped his laptop shut. It was a good thing it had gone to sleep before Norbert got in. A part of him wished he would leave so he could turn it back on. The other part hoped he’d stay to keep him from doing it. At least for a few hours.
“Listen, Promise, I know I’ve been on you for a long time. So, let’s make a deal. If you go today, I promise I won’t bother you about church again.”
That got his attention.The truth was he enjoyed the bothering, the knowledge that someone still thought he was worth saving. Even so, it was a futile effort that would have to be ended for everyone’s benefit. And tonight’s service would be perfect as his last day at church. It would be dark and there would be many unknown faces around. His would just be one of them. He could slip in and out without being noticed, and be back soon enough to continue from where he left off.
“Okay. I’ll go.”
***
Father Raphael slotted his hands into his cassock, watching the proceedings of the service at St. Andrew’s parish from outside. As per usual, Catechist Abraham was at the helm of affairs, running the program that would usher them all into the coming year. Fr. Raphael expected a full house today; Many prodigal sons would be passing through. They wouldn’t be coming home, but they’d be here, nonetheless. He had a chance to get something through to them. Something that would last them all year, preferably enough to keep them coming back. Which is why he’d been praying about today’s homily all year.
This was the first end-of-year service he was officiating at the parish. It was great seeing the excitement among parishioners, their gratitude to God and their apparent readiness to zoom into the new year the minute midnight struck. For him, 31st night wasn’t just about crossing over. It was on a day like this that he’d been unshackled from a dark prison where he would’ve no doubt ended up dead. And he hoped he could do the same for someone tonight.
“Father, good evening.”
He turned around. Two girls holding hands beamed at him.
“Philo, good evening. Where’s your brother?”
“Father, please, Norbert has gone to his friend’s house.”
He pulled on the red rosary around her neck. “You’re matching your colors paa o, mama Philo. See your red shoes.” She giggled and ran with her friend into the church. He smiled.
In his position, by default, he was on a pedestal so high there was no hope he’d ever live up to it. In their eyes, he was holy. Like Jesus, a mass server had told him once. He blamed the white robes.
His objective coming into this parish had been to overcome that barrier, especially with the youth. There’d been progress, but he had a long way to go.
He pulled out his notepad and glossed over the notes he’d put down for tonight. Repentance. Renewal. Restoration. He’d covered the basics, but there was still something missing. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“Sunday School, we’re ready for you,” Abraham intruded his thoughts.
The congregation clapped as children in Kente cloths run through the aisle for the annual performance.
Mass would start in two hours. He headed towards the church building.
Use me, Lord. Give me the right words.
***
“You won’t hear anything from here.”
Promise shrugged. There was no way he was going inside. He would spend the time here, under the trees that lined the front of the church. Norbert would have to accept that.
“I don’t know about you, but I can hear the chirpy voices of the Christian Mothers loud and clear.”
Norbert laughed, joining in the call and response delivery from the old women.
“Sorry I made you late.”
He slapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It was worth it.”
Worth what? He was just going to be here for a few hours and leave. Nothing was going to change.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come in? I saved a seat for you. And it’s going to get noisy here by the time mass starts.”
“If that happens, I’ll join you.”
Norbert nodded and headed towards the church. Promise watched as he waved to almost everyone he came across. He sighed. That was him about a year ago: the guy everyone knew. He would have been the one to go under the trees, convincing the guys to draw close to the church building. And now he was one of them.
B)hy3ba Promise, how far you have fallen.
He leaned against a tree. This is why he’d stopped coming. He’d seared his conscience long ago so he no longer heard the convicting voice of the Spirit. But he’d been here for ten minutes and already, his soul was being tormented with shame. This was no place for a guy like him, a guy with no self-control. A slave to his flesh.
A rumble of aggressive voices floated towards him. The prayer team. They were probably going to do a healing and deliverance service later. A longing he hadn’t felt in a long time latched itself onto his heart. He’d once been a member. If someone like him, Youth president, prayer warrior, left the church, he’d be on the list of prayer topics. Did they still pray for him or had they given up on him, like his parents?
How did I end up here?
As the memories rushed in, the shame followed. The storm had hit him on his blind spot, and now, he was so lost it wasn’t even funny. No matter how hard he tried to find his way back, he just ended up right where he started. Maybe that was because sometimes he din’t even want to leave it. The darkness was sucking the light out of him, but it was the only place he could hide from Him.
He banged his head against the tree, shutting his eyes to the pain. He was confined to this life, to give in to the demands of his flesh. The voices agreed:
God hates sinners.
You’re a sinner.
Why are you here?
They were right. This was a stupid, useless endeavor.
“At this point, the floor is open for testimonies,” his father’s voice boomed out of the speakers. “If you know God has done something for you this year, this is your moment.”
A group of guys appeared up the hill and Promise ducked under a branch. They were his friends, or at least they used to be. If they spotted him, they wouldn’t let him leave.
‘Why don’t you come to church anymore?’ they’d ask. ‘What’s your excuse today?’
They didn’t understand. It was one thing reading about it in the Bible, knowing right and wrong. It was another thing living it.
He’d look for a chance to leave. And then he was never coming back.
***
Testify
Fr. Raphael pulled out his pencil and scribbled in his notepad. Testify.
“Hunh.” It did have a connection with the verse he’d chosen from Rev. 12:11. This was confirmation that his homily was on point.
“Anyone else?” The catechist looked around.
Testify
He looked up. Testify? As in actually …
God, no.
Yes.
Yes? His tongue dried up. He wanted him to give a testimony. His testimony. How could he possibly talk about that here? I’m the priest. What would they think of me?
James 5:16.
‘Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other…’ Fr. Raphael sighed in resignation. He could dismiss a voice in his head, pretend he wasn’t sure it was a prompting of the spirit. But there was no way around scripture. He raised his hand.
“Ei! Father himself is coming o.” Abraham chuckled. “Let’s give him a hand.”
He jogged down the aisle, every eye in the room trained on him. He took the microphone from the catechist. “Why, can’t Father also give a testimony?” Their laughter did nothing to calm the racing of his heart. He paced the across the platform, his demeanor the opposite of the raging emotions within. Two hundred people, young and old, looked at him with reverence. All that was about to change.
“Has anyone here ever been addicted to anything?”
The wide smiles staggered. No one raised a hand.
“Okay.” He sucked in air and let it out. “When I was in J.S.S, I attended the Life in the Spirit Seminar. I was filled with the spirit in a way that was … overwhelming. I came to know God in a personal and wonderful way. I started attending mass every day, read my Bible for hours at a time. I had one of those small new testament ones. I think I read it from cover to cover within a month. I got the call into priesthood in my final year and I was sure I was all set. I was sold out to Christ, for life. Then one day, I walked in on a friend watching a video. And all that changed.”
The friend was his elder brother, but he couldn’t say that. Joojo was long dead.
He’d only gone to his room to tell him dinner was ready, like his mother asked. And there it was: naked men and women on the computer screen doing things he’d never seen before. For a full minute, he had been frozen in the doorway, unable to look away, until his brother turned around, saw him, and slammed the door in his face.
“I knew what it was, and I was disgusted. But my curiosity had also been piqued. Something inside me had been awoken and it wasn’t going back to sleep quietly. I walked away, but the images had already been imprinted on my mind. And they would be for a long time.”
They showed up everywhere: in school, at church, even during his quiet time.
“I couldn’t concentrate on anything. In my exasperation, I decided the only way to get it out of my system was to satisfy my curiosity, get it over with. So one day, I went to my friend’s room while he was out. I told myself I just needed to do it once and that would be all. That was a lie, because that first glance only left me wanting more. And that’s just what I did. I got my own videos with the help of friends. I spent most of the nights watching them. Then it soon became a day and night venture. There was no time for books. Reading my Bible was definitely the last thing on my mind so you can imagine what that did to my spiritual life.”
“I spent hours a day shutting out the voice of the spirit, turning deaf ears to His caution. How could I go from that to communing with Him, a God without blemish. I was too ashamed. So, I ignored Him and took control of my life.”
There was no reverence in the looks the congregants cast now, just an uncomfortable silence and eye contact avoidance tactics.
“When I got into the seminary, I thought the environment would somehow keep me from my habits. But that’s not how addiction works. It didn’t matter where I was; I was still in bondage. It wasn’t until one day during a missions outreach with the C.C.R that it hit me. I was living a double life, proclaiming the saving power of the body and blood of Christ while I frolicked in the mud of my sins like a pig. One had to go. And since I’d tried and failed many times to free myself from my shackles, I decided I would have to give up my calling.”
“It was at a service like this, 31st December 2010. A friend invited me to his church. Looking back now, I realize this was no ordinary invitation. The pastor gave a simple sermon: the power of me too. He talked about his addiction to alcohol and how it destroyed his ministry. So here I was a man in chains , and there he was, a man who had been there and made it out. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all. I had a chance at freedom. So, I took it. After the service, I walked up to him, confessed my sin and that was it. That was six years ago. I’m still a free man.”
Abraham started the clapping, and everyone joined in. Fr. Raphael realized now why he’d been led here. This was the piece missing from his homily. And apparently, it couldn’t wait another hour so he’d just have to dish it out.
“The biggest hindrance to deliverance is shame. How do you tell your family that when they’re not around, when the doors are closed, you are not who they think you are? Can you tell your priest or your parents that you’re addicted to pornography? Do your friends know that for you, Tramadol is not a joke, but something that is dragging you to your death? An addict knows he’s trapped, but can’t get out. There’s something controlling his thoughts and actions that he just can’t stop. Friends, the devil knows that telling someone, the right person, is the first step to deliverance so he keeps you in that darkness, convinced that there is no hope. And he draws you away from the pack, your church community, away from the Lion of Judah. Because alone, you’re vulnerable, easy prey. If you’re here and what I’m saying strikes a chord then please listen. I know you think you’ve reached the limit of God’s grace, that you’ve asked for forgiveness too many times. That’s where you’re wrong. His love, his grace, his mercy, it’s limitless. God is not mad at you. He’s not ashamed of you. And more than anything, he wants to help you find your way back home.”
Fr. Raphael handed the mic back to the catechist. The silence remained as he made his way outside, past the crowd now gathered under the tents and behind the trees that lined the Church entrance. He leaned against one. Pastor Nyame’s words ran through his mind. Your testimony is not for your benefit. Which meant he had done this for someone. Somewhere in that congregation, there was someone his message had been prepared for.
“Father,” a whisper came from behind. He turned. A face half-covered by the darkness poked out before a boy stepped in front of him. He blinked rapidly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Even before he spoke, Fr. Raphael understood: He was looking at himself.
“My name is Promise. I need your help.”
“And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.”
Revelations 12:11 (KJV)
Image credit: www.pexels.com
