MERCY

It’s pulpit rotation Sunday. The guest minister mounted the podium as the church stood with a resounding applause. From the fifth row where he was Oke noticed the deep tribal lines on Pastor Obayemi’s cheeks, and his missing tooth was revealed as he led a worship song.

“Oh! Not again!” Oke retorted under his breathe.

“When will they stop sending unlearned preachers to us?” He touched his jeans to feel his phone. “It’s going to be a long service.” He turned and moved towards the exit.

As we he was about to step outside, he heard the interpreter’s booming voice “Today we will be praying some strong prayers.” Oke proceeded out of the auditorium; phone in hand, a smirk on his face.

From the toilet where he stood examining his phone, he could hear the roar of praying people. He was pacing back and forth, staring at the marble walls. He began to ramble about the toilet. “No one is online, even my ‘goons’ will be in church now. This is unfair! I wish I could leave.” He staggered back into the auditorium.”

Pastor Obayemi spoke swiftly forcing the interpreter to be alert. He instructed all those who were seated to stand.”

The interpreter said, “We are to pray against death by firing squad!”

The preacher led in thunderous voices followed by the interpreter, “Say, Father…”

Oke looked around. It was like a war of words. Oke was amazed. “How can this local man get these people so excited?” The interpreter said again at the prompting of the preacher, “Pray louder! Shout! Shout!” Oke smiled to himself, “So nobody wan die but they wan go heaven! Firing-squad indeed!”

*             *             *

It’s 4:27pm in Oniyanrin, Ekiti State. The sun has been scorching all day. The queue at ATM outside the State Societal Bank is enormous. Oke began counting the number of people ahead of him. The security personnel surrounding the bank seemed more in number than usual and they had big guns. The man behind Oke, apparently Igbo from his accent said, “E be like say dey carry moni come o!”

The bank guards opened the gate to the right of the building. Every-one turned in the direction of the vans. The officers were barking loud instructions to one another as the vans began to reverse into the open gate.

In a split second, two red vans approached the premises with maddening speed. Before the queue could scatter, one of the vans ran into the building crushing some people on the queue. The back side of the van knocked Oke some centimetres off where he stood.

As soon as the van hit the building the bomb was detonated. Smoke and white dust filled the place amidst shouts and screams. Then, the men in the other van opened fire as they jumped out of the van. Body parts were strewn in different parts of the compound. Bullets littered the ground. Blood flowed like a river. People lay strewn in different positions, in different degrees of dismemberment. Many lives lost. Yet, others never to be the same again.

*             *             *

Hours after the attack the scene remains heavily guarded. More security operatives are at the scene. Police vehicles form a barricade meters from the building blocking off the roaring crowd. The Police Public Relations Officer was addressing the impatient reporters.

“The attack would have been successful but for the brave efforts of our men…”

One of the reporters cut him off, “What about the causalities sir?”

“We can’t confirm that for now. However as you can see”, he pointed to the building, “the building has been sealed off and work is going on.”

“I can tell you this though not one of those men escaped!”

*             *             *

He had been hearing voices for days yet he couldn’t respond. Now he could make out the voices that he heard. His mother said “They say nineteen people died from the brutal attack. Pastor please pray this one must not die o!” She continued to sob.

The pastor began to sing a song of praise. Oke opened his eyes for the first time in three days and said, “Water.” The people beside the bed lifted up their voice in praise. His sister ran to call the nurse.

The pastor prayed, “Father, this one should be dead but you have kept him alive. Thank You.”   

courtsey:  www.tansleymethodist.com

               

Author’s note:

“It is of the LORD’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.” – Lamentations 3:22. God is merciful. He alone knows the criteria for keeping men alive. Many people lost their lives that day yet He preserved a ‘doubting Thomas’. We must learn not to look down on any minister of the gospel for they are the mouth piece of God sent for our preservation. Thank God for His mercy over your life and ask Him to please remain merciful to you.