Sunday
Central Hotel (Christ Embassy)
Kano
11:26
For the umpteenth time, she brought her sweet pouty lips close to my right ear and said, “Baby, please go to the front.” I moved my head slightly to the left jus so my ear could brush against those two pair of heaven on her face. She drew back immediately as if she’d come in contact wit’ an electric field, I winked as she slowly shook her head wit’ a what-am-I-goin’-to-do-wit’-you look on her face. SmiIin’, I looked down at my Nokia 3310 and pretended to be readin’ a message that jus’ came through. From the corner of my eye I could see she was still starin’ at me. She wasn’t buyin’ my little production. I gave up and looked into her big beautiful eyes (which appeared to always look surprise and innocent), “Okay, next time am gon step out” I promised.
Out front, I saw that a sizeable number of people had already stepped out, ready and patiently waitin’ to learn. In my mind, I willed the pastor to get the party started and save me from makin’ that long trip to the front of the congregation but I was so wrong ‘cause he kept temporizin’ like he was ready to wait me out while his agent, miss beautiful lips (my girlfriend at the time) wear my resistance thin.
“Now is the time for you to yield to the spirit,” the pastor’s voice boomed through the speakers as the pianist teased out a sombre tune out of his black and white ivories. Churches have learned the soothing and hypnotic effect that shit (piano playin’ gently in the background while the pastor whip God’s children into a frenzy) has on the human psyche and they are puttin’ it to great use. I've often wonder if the 21st century pastors study psychology and some other techniques as part of their theological studies. The mike technique of some of these Pentecostal ministers will put many MCs to shame. They know how and when to breathe heavy into the mike, when to fade away from it, and they do all that wit an eye on the atmosphere in the church.
“If you would stop resisting, this special gift can be yours today,” the pastor persisted. “I know you’re still sitting in the congregation so am going to give you a few more seconds to make your way here and be part of this great experience,” for a brief moment the pastor’s eyes seemed to have met mine, or maybe I jus' imagined it.
11:40
Pouty lips poked me on the ribs and repeated her earlier plea; I kept a straight face like I was lost on some kind of spiritual journey. Shawtie continued chippin’ away at my defiance and when she stopped, it was only to draft in our friend (J) into the war against me. Sittin’ on either side of me, they came at me wit barrages of c’mons and please. I gave in. There was only so much a nigga can do when two beautiful chicks got your ass in the middle. Man wasn't built to resist freaky godly women, or was he?
As I walked to the front, I felt tens of curious eyes burned into my back, watchin’ my every move. I took my place on the far right of the line up and waited for the gift. It was as if the pastor had delayed the whole gig because of me (ah ha, there I go massagin’ my own ego again), as soon as I took my spot, he signalled the choir to press stop on their singin’ (but the keyboardist played on of course) and got the party started.
“Start speaking whatever comes to mind. Do not resist. Speak!” he said as he pranced up and down the length of the lineup. ”open yourself up and accept the gift”.
He started layin’ hands on folks from the other end of the line. As he did, he instructed them to speak and not be shy. I took a sideway glance at the people down the line; I saw that folks already broke into a strange languages. I tried to speak like the pastor said but nada came out, so I bowed my head and jus prayed in English. Couldn't afford to look out of place among these obedient children, could I?
Few minutes later, I cracked open my left eye jus a tiny bit to see the pastor anointin’ the person next to me. As he got close, I closed my eyes, the tension got big. I could hear the nigga speakin’ in tongues and fallin’ to the ground as he got touched by the pastor.
Oh men! I said to myself, calm the fuck down sonny, relax and receive....
Sunday
16 July 2012
13:04
The atmosphere was electric; folks were slippin’ into spiritual realm all over the place, some were laughin’ (not a ha ha kind of laughter), others were “speakin’ in tongue.” The pastor was fired up as he moved among the congregation, touchin’ and prayin’ for folks. It was a great time to be in church.
13:11
The ushers rushed to catch a woman who had jus' been gripped by a higher power before she toppled over in her chair. The man sittin’ next to the woman looked far removed from what jus happened beside him. The pastor noticed the man’s demeanour and said, “you look too serious. Smile.”
All eyes were on the pastor and the man (like 2pac), folks were watchin’ this little exchange wit some kinda amused curiosity. The more the pastor told the nigga to smile, the more the nigga cast his face in iron. In that moment in time, even Kevin Hart would have failed to get a smile out of this dude, it was as if he was sayin’ “give it up, pastor, you’re now rockin’ wit the hulk”.
Back to ‘04
...I closed my eyes and dropped my head a lil’. I prayed silently, makin’ a show of movin’ my lips so that a nigga doesn’t appear to be deliberately resistin’. As the pastor’s hand hit my forehead, I planted my feet firmly to the ground, makin’ sure if a nigga must fall to the ground, it’d be by the Holy Ghost and not by any loss of balance. I got touched but I didn't get that funky feelin' some of the others got...
Outro
I’ve never spoken in tongue and I’ll probably never will... and guess what? I have never felt out of place in a roomful of foreign tongue spittin’ folks. Why? Well, I read the Bible and my understandin’ of the Good Book is a little different from the way some of these pastors see things. Some think the gift of speakin’ in tongue can be taught. Pure balderdash, if you ask me!
Oh, you think am speakin’ heresy or blasphemy, huh?
*Grabs the bible, the Dob’s Urban Version, of course* ’’
“Would love y’all to speak in tongue…but what use is speakin’ in tongue if you got nobody to translate” 1 Cor. 14 vs. 5.
“And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they began to speak in other language, as the spirit gave them word…” Act 2 vs. 4 - 11.
Folks who heard the disciples speakin’ in tongue were shocked to hear their different languages being spoken these niggas. Did I hear you say whoa! My thought exactly, speakin’ in tongue is not some’ you can learn to do or some’ that can be forced. Speakin’ in tongue is not some’ Rababababa Oh God Rabosayata gibberish, No sir I aint buyin’ it!
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