Ding dong, ding dong…..the bell from the church beside my residence chimed. Over the years, that bell had served the purpose of alarm to me. I rose up lazily as I heard the scream of my name, almost immediately after the bell chimed.‘Bezzzzzzzzzzzzz! Rise up, it’s Sunday’…that was my mama calling in her usual dramatic way.
Sunday worship/service is something I usually look forward to, however, I am not that religious; but Sunday is practically the only day in the week I have to go to church… no thanks to my busy schedule. If you do not feel bad for not going to church on Sundays, it is either you weren’t raised by a typical African parent like mine or you’ve succeeded in wandering off the way and murdering your conscience.
And so I quickly picked up my phone to check the news updates on godlywoman.com.ng it was a Sunday morning, so I didn’t see lots if catchy stuff, I quickly scanned through the headlines in less than a minute and l dashed to my chores, cleaned up and prepared for church and in less than an hour I was ready, off to church I went with no specific expectation. On this particular Sunday, the church was informed about the coming of a guest, a renowned minister that I had always looked forward to; I could barely contain my enthusiasm. So, throughout the week I impatiently did a countdown as I await his coming. Eventually, the Sunday came, and I was so thrilled that I hurried excitedly to church to see the one I have been seeing on the television for years live… God knows I have been ‘long throating’ to attend one of his services.
The much-awaited day finally came, and I was really elated that I ignored the protest of starved worms rumbling in my tummy(which was so unusual of me), as I rushed to the bathroom, singing as I freshen up. I was determined to get to church at least 30 minutes before the service begins so that I will be able to sit at the front row…I can’t allow my blessing to pass me by, I grew up with the belief that when Angels come to share blessings, they start from the front row, imagine them getting to the middle and no more blessings to share, not to talk about backbenchers…O.Y.O is their case! LOL! My tummy continued to rumble as I dressed up and give myself an impeccable touch, nonetheless, I was too determined to make it to church early; even though my mind reminded me repeatedly that the last time I ate was yesterday afternoon, but hunger doesn’t kill anyone, does it?
Dressed in my beautifully sequined blue boubou gown, decked with red sanyan headgear and matching accessories, I left for church. I got to church early as planned, and was able to make the front row…today will be great! I said to myself. From the beginning of the service, I just couldn’t wait for all other routinal activities to be over so my favorite Reverend will mount the stage, even the choir ministration was unusually boring, is this about them or just me? I really can’t tell. Reverend Bee mounted the stage right after the choir ministration and it was just as I envisaged, he led the congregation into a worship session. It was so heavenly that we didn’t notice that a whole hour had passed… Lost in worship, we were. After the worship session which I can only describe as electrifying, Reverend Bee took another one and a half hour to preach, it was indeed a great insight into the word of God.
But toward the end of the message, I began to feel weaker than I was before, the service was supposed to end at 11am, but it was past 12pm; yet the end was not in sight. There and then I remember it was announced last week that we will be closing really late today because it was supposed to be a special service, but how did I miss that part?
It was time for a prayer session, if this is indeed the Reverend Bee I do watch on cable, this is the most exciting, intriguing and tasking part of the service, and the service is far from being over. This is the point I had to encourage myself, ‘abi no be hunger? Hunger no fit kill a naija babe jor’. How wrong I was!
“Everybody lift up your hands, and be in the spirit, yea! Be free in the spirit, sing in the spirit, worship Him in the spirit”. I could barely raise my hands for a minute and I began to feel dizzy, so dizzy was I that I unconsciously dropped back into the chair. Wait o, did I just fell under the anointing? So I thought, and I knew so does those around me thought because immediately I fell, I caught sight of the man beside me praying more fervently in what looked like“you’ve done hers, pass me not Lord”. I managed to rise up again but I was feeling dizzier, ‘is this a symptom of malaria or I am that hungry?’ I couldn’t understand myself anymore, the dizziness became much more unbearable, I couldn’t stand on my feet and I was feeling such an unusual heat from the inside.
The auditorium on the other hand seems so charged, with everyone trying to get blessed except me. Reverend Bee started to pray in tongues ” The Spirit of the Lord is here, yes receive it, I say receive it, let it flow, from the front to the back…” It was as if that was all I was waiting to hear as I dropped right on the floor hitting my head on the chair, thank God it was a plastic chair. “rebosh kan di ya ba, rediya kah, laba laba garium malinga, regae regae geegemu” … that was me muttering gibberish in the guise of tongues, as I sensed an usher moving close to check on me, but then relief came within me as she moved away to join the others in attending to those that had fallen under the anointing. I remain on the floor and only me knew why I was there. I was so weak, this time, I wish someone will come close to me and offer aid, but there was no Red Cross members to tend to fallen ‘heroes’ like me; beside who will disturb a Sister who is being slain in the spirit during an anointing service?
The service was over and I had gathered enough strength to stand on my feet, I won’t mind being aided, but I knew the implication of that, it will be a deliverance session the next Sunday or how will one explain the inability to stand and walk after the service than a demonic possession. I practically dragged myself out of the church compound and with my headgear and shoes in my hand, I jumped on the first Okada (commercial motorcycle) that came my way.
An unforgettable incidence it was. To everyone, I was the most touched at the service, but I alone know the touch I received because I didn’t fall under the anointing of the Holy Spirit, but under the influence of a pang of an unusual hunger which I still find difficult to explain till today.
I got home and my kid sis who left the church earlier was the first person I saw, “Big sis, how you do am now? Be like say an because of you them being that pastor o, you just dey fall under the anointing anyhow, I envy you sha, na to dey blast tongues remain o” she came over to poke me by the side while I say silently in my heart “only if you knew…”
It is indeed a terrible thing to faint during an anointing service…for no one will rescue you! Perhaps, you are planning on going to a deliverance or anointing service any time soon, be good enough to supply the need of the belly first, lest you fall under an unknown anointing.
NB: The image belongs to RCCG Camp, Floyd, Texas and it is not related to the fiction in any way