Pulpits of Fear

The congregants stared wide eyed as the pastor spoke. Manicured, red-polished fingers covered some people's faces. A few clean shaven heads shook from side to side, stoic looks masked the fear that lay within.

"By the time the poor mother got home, her three children were dead." The preacher declared with finality.

Women wiped away tears. Men stared ahead. Children clung to their stomachs. The air smelled of betrayal and death.

"Why are you looking so shocked?" The pastor asked, pulling a new handkerchief from his pocket as he spoke. Reproach defined his countenance as he glared at the crowd he had just frightened.

Wiping clusters of saliva from both ends of his lips, he continued. "The Bible says that a man’s enemies shall be those of his own household."

Climbing down the podium, he looked accusingly at a man and his wife, as if telling them they were each other’s worst enemies.

"I don’t know about you, but I do not trust anyone. I don’t even have friends. I have God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Spirit; why do I need a mere mortal as a friend?

His suspicious look now rested on the row of chairs where the churches’ ministers and deacons sat, his eyes conveying his distrust for his ministry partners.

"That is why you have to give your life to Christ." The preacher’s arms were spread apart, portraying the cross.

"Make Jesus your best and only friend. Come out here now and give your life to Christ." His voice sounded like that of a principal, urging an unidentified student who had broken a window to confess before a school assembly.

Oge watched the pastor intensely. At first, when she began making the rounds of churches with his brother, the ways of the pastors were strange to her. The angry way they spoke and addressed church members elicited feelings of discomfort. Her parents raised her and her two brothers with much love and respect. Their tragic death in a road accident three years earlier brought her face to face with the harshness of life. She had begun attending different churches in search of a miracle for her younger brother, who was driving the car in which their parents died. A truck hit the car from behind, killing both parents instantly and leaving her brother paralyzed from the waist down. Doctors made it clear that there was nothing that could be done to restore the use of his legs.

Led by two female ushers, twelve subdued souls—seven women and five children shuttled to the altar in response to the pastor’s altar call.

Before the group reached the altar, the pastor began to scream, "The Lord is telling me that there is a winch here."

 The congregation sprang up.

"Heheii. A winch, a winch, a winch." The pastor’s eyes surveyed the hall, which was filled with a hysterical mass, among whom, surely was one who delighted in human flesh. The church had turned into a crime scene, everyone was suspect. But the spirit will reveal the culprit.

The pastor’s eyes rested on a man who sat calmly in the midst of the mayhem.

"Bring him out here." He bellowed, pointing an index finger at the man.

Five male ushers besieged the man, who, as if hypnotized, had already stood up and was making his way to the altar. The ushers formed a U-shape around him as they led him to the Man of God.

On the pastor’s orders, the man accused of witchcraft was given a microphone to confess.

"I have nothing to confess." He spoke in the direction of the microphone, held up by one of the ushers.

"Thunder fire you and your coven." The pastor screamed with rage.

Oge counted five holes in the man’s shirts and three in his pants. His shoes reminded her of pieces of old, discarded tires her brothers played with when they were kids.

"Pastor I came here for help, please. I am hungry, and I need help. I am not a witch."

The pastor looked at the congregation. "Someone shout fire!"

Everybody, minus Oge and his brother, shouted "fire!"

The accused man kept declaring his poverty and innocence. The pastor stared at him from the podium.

Unlike the last time Oge was at the church, the pastor did not climb down from the pulpit to place his hand on the temple of the witch to pray and push until she fell to the ground.

After a few seconds of staring, he instructed the five ushers to take the man back to where he sat so he could pick up his things and go back to his "coven, as he does not belong in the midst of God’s children."

The Fire against them Church of Deliverance was probably the 9th or 10th church Oge and her brother visited in search of a miraculous cure, and as Oge wheeled her brother out of the church premises, a huge weight rested on her shoulders. Her brother did not talk much, even before the accident. Since the accident, he has become like a recluse, hardly partaking in conversations. Yet, Oge needed someone to talk to.

"I really don’t know about all these churches anymore. I am becoming more afraid by the day, just by listening to the preachers."

Her brother nodded.

"I am not sure if I want to keep coming to this church, or even visit another church. I just want to go back to the church where we were raised. But I also want to have a closer relationship with God."

Much more than talking to her brother, Oge was trying to process her thoughts.

"But they cannot heal me there." His brother protested about the traditional church where both grew up.

"I know. Give me some time, Ike. Let me pray about this whole thing."

Oge spent time in fasting, praying, and studying God’s word that week. As Sunday drew near, she was sure she did not want to go back to the church of the previous week; neither did she want to try out another church. She was thinking about God’s word all through, and one of the thoughts that began to grow in her mind was that God is love. God has not given His children a spirit of fear, but a spirit of boldness and a sound mind. Jesus came to die for the world, to restore humanity’s capacity to love as God loves.

Where was this love in the preaching and disposition of the pastors she had been visiting since her brother’s diagnosis? Oge wondered. It was so much fear mongering,  disrespect for the congregation, and prideful display of power from the pulpit.

On Saturday night, Ike asked Oge where they were going to worship the next day.

Oge, her heart full of love, her eyes full of life and light, sat down and holding Ike’s hands, spoke.

"Ike, God is able to heal you. But do you know that he is more concerned about having a relationship with you?"

Ike looked at her sister blankly. All he wanted was to get up the wheelchair, play football again, go to the club at night and go after girls like other boys his age.

"We have been going to all these churches where we are made to believe that all human beings are wicked and should be treated with suspicion. But we know that is not true. That is not the way we were raised. That is not what the Bible says." Oge’s voice was calm and soothing. She had had an experience with Jesus in the past few days of fasting, praying and studying God’s word.

"The Bible says that love believes the best and hopes for the best. Where is that in all these messages we have been hearing from these pastors?" He asked her brother, who was trying to understand his sister.

"Perfect love casts out fear. We have to find a church where love is preached and not fear and evil."

As Oge spoke, a text message came to her phone. It was from the Fire against them Church of Deliverance, warning church members not to miss church the next day. "Curses and severe hardship will follow anyone who dares," the text concluded. Oge quietly deleted the message.