My brethren and I by Amaebi Goodness Akiri

 

 

A SHORT STORY: MY BRETHREN AND I

"What do you mean by that, are we not also believers?"
If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard this phrase in my twenty-seven years on earth, I’d be rich by now.
The first time I heard it, I was in SS2, a young arts student in the northern part of Nigeria. It was 2011. Boko Haram had threatened to invade my school on the outskirts of Bakori Local Government in Katsina State. All the Christians—about 200 of us in a sea of 1,000 girls—ran to the school chapel to pray. We were terrified. Our seniors led the prayers. Afterward, we were advised to tie our hair and wear veils. "It's a way to keep ourselves safe," they said.
I had just given my life to Christ and been baptized in the Holy Ghost. It felt strange to hear that I could secure my safety through my own scheming. My young mind was confused. I raised my hand to ask a question, and the chapel prefect, Senior Muna, nodded at me to speak.
"Senior Muna, I thought Pastor said God can keep His own? He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High..."
Before I could finish, people hissed. Embarrassment pricked at my skin, but Senior Muna smiled.
"Denyefa, I understand, but in times like this, wisdom is profitable to direct. Even Abraham had to say Sarah was his sister at some point. Do you understand?"
"But I thought Abraham lied?"
From the back, someone yelled, "Aunty, you think too much, jor!"
The hall burst into laughter. Senior Muna, maybe to save me from further embarrassment, said, "You know God gave us brains to use, right? Jesus washed away our sins, not our brains. So, my dear, use your brain. Do you understand?"
I didn’t. I honestly didn’t understand. I was thinking of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, but the harsh laughter of my classmates drowned my thoughts. The snide remarks stung.
"Which day this one sef born again?"
So, I nodded. I nodded and said, "Yes, ma."
And we all bought the hijabs.
That night, I cried. I wept into my pillow. My bunkmate climbed up to my bed and whispered, "Dee, what is wrong with you na? Why you dey do like this? Are we not all believers?"
But at that moment, I wasn’t sure what it meant to be one anymore.
That was to the be the first of many times I would wonder.
I was jugged from that memory by the stillness around my room, but it didn’t last long, it’s been ten years, and every time this memory comes to mind, the first reaction is a still, numb feeling.
Now that it had passed, I could hear the frogs croaking—one of the many reasons I hate the rainy season. And yet, Disney wants to convince people that someone should kiss a frog? Iyama!
The soft morning cold wrapped around me, it was very dark outside, I walked away from the window I had been standing at. Thankfully, there was light. My bulb was on, casting a warm glow over the room. I walked to my bed and sat down, lost in thought, reflecting on my decision.
Then, I picked up my diary. Writing helped me think.
"Dear Diary,"
I met a guy today. A sweet-looking specimen of maleness, with a fine chiseled nose that would block his eyes from seeing his lips, abs that defied the covering of clothes, and eyes—eyes so creamy I just wanted to suck them.
Chai. Diary, this Christian life is hard, oh.
Tell me why, when he noticed me staring and walked toward me, I walked away?
The guy isn’t a stranger. Well, technically, he is. But I’ve googled everything googleable about him. And—he’s not a believer.
But Diary, that’s the challenge! Christian brothers in my area? They’re just not fine. They lack swag. And they don’t even try!
Adah thinks I’m a fool. Again. She says this my idea of being a believer will be the coffin that buries my dreams, fantasies, and expectations. Sometimes, I feel she’s right.
Because why did I turn down that job at Tobacco House of Gold? I wasn’t producing anything. It wasn’t illegal. I was just going to be a P.A. to one of the managers. And the salary—my God, it was mouthwatering.
But I let it go. Because I didn’t have peace of mind.
Diary, is it worth it? Is this what it really means to live the Christian life? Turning down great job offers? Running away from fine men?
I let a great job go, because I felt the Lord would not have me do it, and the brethren had criticized me when they heard. “Na only you Jesus die for, ehn aunty?”
The alarm on my phone went off, a shrieking, soul-wrenching scream. Adah, my flat mate, had begged me to change the tone countless times, but no. I am a deep sleeper on a good day, and nothing wakes me up, but this alarm, it had a strong sound that could wake the dead, after missing an interview once for oversleeping the one time I changed it, I knew this tone was here to stay.
Not that I needed it today. My thoughts had woken me up long before the alarm.
I dropped my diary on the small table beside my bed. It was time for my devotion, except today, I wasn’t sure how to speak with the Lord.
How do I tell Him that I’d been hurt—by a believer, again? One of His children?
How can a believer comfortably take credit for another person’s work, time, effort, sweat?
The tears gushed out as I remembered the sleepless nights I had spent on endless research, the days I drank just Nescafé—when I hate Nescafé—just to stay awake. All for this one deacon in his church to come and steal my work.
I had cried to the MD. Instead of justice, I was accused of not being a team player.
Me? Not a team player?
Me, who helped with other people’s tasks?
Me, who remembered birthdays and sent gifts?
Me, of all people?
I sniffed.
Today, my mission in the office was simple.
I was going to drop my resignation letter.
I was not going to work in a place that undervalued me.
A place that was toxic.
A place where a deacon had the guts to ask me, "Are you the only one that is a believer?"
The nerve of that man! You steal a person’s idea and try to cloak it under a spiritual-let-brotherly-love-continue-blanket. Who does that? Mr. Martins Okoro, scratch that, Deacon Martins Okoro!
I muttered a simple prayer and left my half-made bed, my Bible unopened by my pillow, as I pulled off my night gown to prepare for work.
Just then I felt a thug, I call it my Holy Ghost switch. But I didn’t want that right now, right now I was on a mission, to deal with all unrighteousness, and leave it. Let me see the dear Deacon use my idea when I am not there.
“oh yeah, and whose noble mission is this Dee, because it’s not mine.”
Trust the Holy Ghost to minister to you when you are not looking. When I prayed for help for that work, when I prayed for direction on how to handle the issue, I heard nothing. And now that my mind is made up, you show up Lord?
I wore the night gown back and sat on the bed. “Lord it’s not fair, you know how hard I worked for this, if an unbeliever has sabotaged me like this, I would be able to handle this, but Lord, this is your son, a church leader, how do you expect me to let it go?”
But I knew I was going to give in, “the joy of the Spirit,” a sermon my pastor had preached the previous Sunday came to my heart. I had no idea how things were going to play out, but pastor had taught us John 14:20. He said, “there comes a time when you know, this is not me, this the Lord having expression in me, and on a day like that, the only thing that would make sense, is the oneness you are coming into with Christ. On that day, the world would look at you and wonder, why are you acting this way, and the only explanation you would have to give is to scream: “Chai! Scripture is coming alive in me,” I picked up my bible and opened that scripture, “on that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you.” I sighed as I closed it. I knew without a shadow of doubt that I would not be submitting that letter. The message was the 2nd part of the series titled “Partakers of his Grace.” The life we have been called into is a partakers’ life. We are partaking in his grace, to share this divine nature with him. Pastor said this grace was enjoying the life of Christ expressed in each and every believer.
I left in the bible, and proceeded to the bathroom to shower, and I tripled my preparation. Seeing as I was not resigning, might as well make sure I don’t go late. Sometimes I wonder if its how the Holy Spirit stops me that he stops these people, people like my team lead, and his idea tiffing inclinations. I still could not understand how the man was a deacon.
The traffic was in my favour and I got to work quite early, there was no paranran, she has obeyed the Lord. The manager didn’t even call me to apologize. I proceeded with my work, praying in my heart for something to happen to encourage me. Something along the lines of “my beloved daughter, you have done well. You would win this heavenly race.” There was nothing! The sun did not stand still, and the office coffee was not nicer than it usually was. I felt a little sad. I do everything to please the Lord and sometimes, I really can do with a small pat on my back, its not like I am asking for something big, abi?
I watched as the clock struck 4pm. It was as though someone tapped me and asked me to look up. A little girl rushed in, tripped and fell. She was crying, and I went over to help her and dust her up. I tried to pacify her, but in no time, it became clear that the tears were from something other than the fall.
“What’s your name princess?”
“My name is Chinaza.”
“Chinaza, that’s a beautiful name. Why are you crying darling? Did you hurt yourself?” Although even I could see that there was no hurt or injury on her.
“No, but someone hurt me in school today, my best friend, no, my former best friend.”
I smiled, oh the joy and innocence of childhood.
“What is the name of your former best friend, Chinaza?”
“Her name is Nora. And she is a bad girl, and I would tell our Sunday school teacher, so that Jesus can cancel her name from the book of life.”
I wanted to laugh, but I mentally pinched myself, Denyefa, you can’t be laughing when someone’s name is about to be cancelled from the book of life.
“Chinaza, my dear, I am sorry, but what did Nora do to you to deserve this grave punishment?”
“Our teacher told us to prepare a story, that the best story would win a prize. Nora told me her story and I told her mine. And she stole my story. She stole my story and claimed as her own, and won the prize. I tried to tell our teacher the truth, but Noora said Jesus does not like snitches. But how about thieves, does Jesus like thieves, because she stole my story. I am even sure Jesus likes me more than her, because I am not a thief.”
I felt really bad for the little girl who had stopped her crying to tell her story but was now back to crying, for a minute, I didn’t comfort her, I wanted to cry with her. Its exactly the same way Mr. Martins Okoro had stolen my idea, my work. Except he wasn’t my friend, he was my team lead. Just then the scream of Daddy jolted me back. I turned to see Mr. Okoro. And from the look on his face, I bet he had heard our conversation. He scooped his daughter up and right in front of me answered her.
“No baby, Jesus does not like stealing. Stealing is very wrong, and your friend was wrong to steal. But you would also be wrong to not forgive her. Jesus always forgives us when we are wrong right? It’s the same way he wants you to forgive your friend. He would not want you to judge and condemn her and act like he died for only you. What did we say about Elijah’s pride?”
The young girl sniffled as she answered “Elijah’s pride is thinking you are the only prophet that has not bowed to Baal. But Daddy I am not proud, she really is wrong.”
“I know my dear, stealing is always wrong, and I am not saying your friend is right just because I am showing you something wrong you are doing. I am reminding you that Jesus loves all of us and he is helping all of us to become more and more like him. Hmm?”
She nodded her head, wiping her tears. Her Father went on, “So now, Naza, you would pray for your friend, that Jesus should help her see that stealing is wrong, then, you would walk up to her in school tomorrow and tell her she hurt you by stealing from you, and she is wrong. Tell her Jesus does not like stealing, and you hope she would do the right thing by telling your teacher the truth. Okay baby?”
“Yes Daddy.”
“Alright, go and wait for me in the office, I would be back soon, and I would take you home.”
He dropped her down and the little girl ran off to his office. I wanted to disappear.
“Miss Denyefa, I believe I owe you an apology. I honestly had no intention to pose your work off as mine. But you know how our manager can be, he asked a few questions, and I panicked, and it slipped out that the work was mine. I truly was going to make things right, but when you confronted me, and even reported me to the manager, my pride and ego were bruised and everything just went downhill from there. I am so sorry. I would make this right.”
“Its…” I coughed unsure what to say, “I forgive you sir, its fine.”
“Thank you, I would see you as soon as I get back and we can go to the manager together, I need to drop my daughter at home. My wife travelled, and her elder ones close later, that’s why the bus brought her here instead.”
“Oh, its fine sir.”
He briskly walked away.
My mouth was opened wide for a millisecond and then I closed it. I had been wallowing in self-pity and self-righteousness all day, forgetting that Jesus died for all of us, and that we are all called to be partakers of his grace, this was one of the things the Lord had been drawing my heart to. He was at work in all my brethren, causing us all to live in the reality of this grace that we have been called into. But I always stand, ready to judge, ready to feel like the only believer standing.
When I came to this company for work, the Lord had given me some promises, but with each passing day, I forgot them. The flaws of my Christian colleagues always left me feeling alone on my journey. Their snide remarks left me feeling if this was the life I had been called into. I thought of the entry in my diary this morning, the job I turned down for this, the man I turned down, and how I had used each of those events as a flag of my own righteousness. I realized that the Lord has held me at every step of my journey. His promises, they help turn away from the lust of the world. As I keep following him, I am changed into his image, I am privileged to participate in his divine nature, his nature finds expression in all I do.  2nd Peter 1:4 washed over my soul, I was reminded of Pastor’s sermon again. I made a mental note to listen to it before going to bed.
I was going to turn back to my work station when another little rushed in draging a barbie school bag. Did I miss the memo on “bring your child to work day?” She was wearing the same uniform Chidera had on, so I presumed they were sisters. Until my manager’s voice called out, “Nora, where is your mummy.”
“Daddy, I wanted to show you the prize I won today.”
Oh wow, I walked away quickly, God does have a sense of humor. What were the chances of both girls ending here.
I went back to my workstation and sat down, as I opened my laptop to continue work on the file I had been working on, the Holy Ghost said to me, “why was it so hard for you to forgive your brother Dee?     You were so quick to condemn this believer. He was wrong, but was he unredeemable, unforgiveable? Your diary is so full of records of hurts and pains. Is that the nature of Christ?”
As I repented on my seat and made a resolution to revamp my diary entries, I heard the voices of two girls giggling, I rolled my seat back and peeped, it was Chinaza and Nora, they had made up. Their fathers were walking towards me. I rolled my chair in and resumed my job.
I shared everything that happened with Adah.
“Na wa oh, so you mean that your proud manager apologize to you.”
“My dear, e shock me too.”
“But come oh, Denyefa, you need to learn to dey forgive people oh. Ah ah, are you not a believer?”
I laughed.
I am a believer, a partaker of his divine nature, I am a member of the body of Christ, we are all called to partake in his grace. I am in him, and him in me. He is at work in all his children, making sure that we all conform to his image, to the perfect divine nature. Such great grace. I am not alone. We are all works in progress right now, and thanks to the work of the Holy Ghost, I knew truly, I, we would all end up even as he is.
“Adah, I don hear, babe, come and join me, there is this sermon by my Pastor that I want us to listen to.”
Adah picked her food and stood up, she was going to her room. “Aunty leave me please let me rest, I had a stressful day at work, and I plan to join Halleluyah challenge for night, And I know you would join too oh. Aunty, you too do. Shu! Na only you be believer?”
I threw my head back and laughed, she looked at me like I was crazy and walked into her room. I was not the only Christian, the one who called me to partake of his grace, called my brethren also, he is at work in everyone of us so that we all truly would be one in him.