Christian Fiction: Masquerades


Christian Fiction: Masquerades by Lois Nguveren Ugbu

I watched her closely. I was irritated. I could taste this irritation in my ears and tongue. I could feel it crawl slowly on my skin like those bed bugs I watched in a movie. I understand that being courteous was a very nice thing but this one really got on my nerves. Sometimes I liked to think I was jealous and uncouth. Or I was the devil's workshop since I was even idle. 

Sis Doo was such an elegant woman. she walked straight but yet swung her feet like she was dancing. She was a fine young lady and worked with the Access bank branch down the road. She had this fine Venza car that everyone admired. Her apartment was so surreal and aesthetic. It held a colourful comfort you don't get to see everyday. You just had to step in to feel it. Her skin was like fine wine poured in new glass, tall, elegant, shiny. She was a member of the home church I attended too and she was so committed. She always gave, she never missed any activity, she even organized personal seminars for the teenagers. I liked to think she had everything together. I admired her  

I decided to get close to her because I liked everything she did. I wanted to get close and most probably grow to become like her. Getting close was easy. I started to visit her and sit out with her during her free time. Sis Dee like I liked to call her, was extremely picky about everything and anything to the least, even the brand of water she drank. She had a whole bunch of rules she obeyed and made sure she made everybody feel unserious if they didn't live up to her chronicle of rules. 

The rules were as many as you could imagine. I still don't understand how she brought herself to breathe because I remember I struggled to breathe the first time I was around her. Sit like this, walk like this, wash like this, hold this like this and everything seemed to be wrong around her. She was the only one always right. The part that got me was the day we had to eat biscuits in a plate on the dinning table. I was literally confused. In a plate fine, but why all the way to the dinning table? I wish we could use fork and knife too then with tea in long robes so we could actually act classical.

After a week I was tired. I wanted to leave but I decided otherwise. She came home earlier that day, she was tired and took an off early permission. That is the first time we ever spoke about her work. I saw how she spoke about everybody with contempt. Even at her workplace it seemed she was the only one that had sense too. There was no traffic at all everyday but the day we met little traffic on the way, she was uncomfortable and aggressive. She reeled out scorpions from her tongue lashing insults on everyone that just passed. The Yoruba girl in me kept responding with "yeeee" and "ahhhh" in my mind. It was hurtful to see this. The young girl that lived with her was tired. No emotions or empathy towards her. Just work and work. She over worked her in the name of perfection and training. She kept looking slim and malnourished. She shouted at every single neighbour at any given opportunity. No wonder she had no friends. She mistook each activity she was on during calls. She lied and called it simple. 

After thinking for a while, I decided to go back home. The last straw that broke the camel's back fell last week. After the Bible study, I kept going on and on about how it was powerful and I had learnt alot. She remained silent. On getting home, she had a long call where she spoke to a friend about the study and they laughed everything away belittling it in every form of disgust. She didn't like prayer meetings either. She preferred to pray quietly in her room and finish the prayers in her dream. I had to leave. I was tired.

Getting home, I started meditating over again and wondering what was wrong. Just as I started to thank God, 2 Timothy 3:5 dropped into my spirit.

2Tim.3.5 For [although] they hold a form of piety (true religion), they deny and reject and are strangers to the power of it [their conduct belies the genuineness of their profession]. Avoid [all] such people [turn away from them]. (AMP)

I read from other versions and I was startled.

2Tim.3.5 They'll make a show of religion, but behind the scenes they're animals. Stay clear of these people. (MSB)

Why did it look like I had gone to report sis Dee somewhere? I started to beg for forgiveness because instead of looking unto Jesus the author and the finisher of my faith, I was looking for other men to model my life after. I understood what was happening to Sis Dee. I prayed for her and decided to keep praying for her.

I saw clearly that those masquerades that ran around in the village at festivals beating people were not the only masquerades I knew. I saw a beautiful masquerade this time. A smooth skin covering poisonous snakes and releasing them out quietly. One side beautiful, one side darkly ugly. The Spirit of God in me was supposed to yield beautiful fruits in me and make me a sweet fragrance to people and a shiny light. Falling short was the effect of denying the power but putting on a form. I realized there were several masquerades everywhere and in church today. Looking intently at Jesus was the only way to open up the masquerade and bring it to submission to the power that is supposed to be at work in us. Submitting every part and not faking being fine in ourselves in any part was key. Masquerades live amongst us. Are you a masquerade?

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  1. The Lord has blessed you dear, God will shine His light on your head

  2. May I not become like sis Doo, thank you Lois for this piece

  3. May the Holy Spirit continue to inspire you... May we not be beautiful masqueraded

  4. Hmmmm...
    Thanks for this piece. 🤗🤗
    May we not be masquerades in Jesus' Name.
    More grease to your elbow.

  5. This was a good read. A worthy use of sarcasm I must say. Well done sister Lois.


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