THE STOLEN GODS: Roaming Greed Amongst God's Saints

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Honourable Laban barged into the church. He had dusted the combined team of ushers and protocols outside. But this lanky usher at the entrance knew his onions; he could not be cracked. He deftly calmed down the boiling honourable.

All the while, Pastor Jacob hugged the pulpit in front giving a powerful charge.

Now that he has been calmed, Laban accepted to be led up the aisle to the special visitor’s seat and absent-mindedly waited for the service to close.

“Jacob, I’ve been looking for some stuff since you and your wife last visited?” Laban said, seated before Jacob who was sprawling behind his table.

Jacob was stung up. His oblong face was shock-stricken, “Sir, stuff? What stuff?”

“My gods.”

“Sir, I don’t get you sir?” Jacob queried.

“I said it was the time you and your wife visited that my gods went missing!”

“Maske-te-bu-ka-sa-ru-me-so-to! What!”

The walls sent back the echo for effect. The door flung open and the secretary rushed in.

“Hope no problem sir,” asked the black-suited lady in words and gesture.

Jacob adjusted his countenance and posture at once.

“No problem, Joy. Thank you.”

No further instruction, Joy exited. The somberness returned.

“Sir, are you insinuating that I, a servant of God, stole your heathen gods?”

“Insinuation is not my concern; all I want is my gods. Your wife could have taken it, you know.” Laban cranked a detour.

“You mean you don’t trust your own daughter too?” Jacob’s fit of surprise festered.

“This is not about trust! She knows the worth of the gods! Don’t you get me, Jacob?”

Jacob sighed audibly.

“I think at this point sir, we need to get home.”

Jacob and Rachael endured Laban’s thorough scrutiny of their apartment. After what looked like a decade Laban appeared shamefacedly from a corner.

“I think I’m done.”

“And what did you find sir?”

Dejectedly, “Nothing really. But, I’m still…”

“I think you owe me an apology sir” Jacob cut in.

“I…,” Laban held back, “Ok, I’m sorry.”

Just before the couple retired to bed, Rachael owned up to the crime. Jacob was about to explode. Rachael saw it coming and quickly played her trump card:

Mammon was the name of her father’s fetish and the house it abides riches must reside. So, the crime was on their behalf.

Expectantly, Laban handed off the grenade pin immediately.   This Adam loved his woman, nay, his greed, too much; he gulped down the whole forbidden apple.

Few days after, Mammon was larger than life in Jacob’s church. He was too sanguineous, having his fingers in all pies.

The testimonies before the congregation and the acrimony among them were about him. The messages from the pulpit and the mess behind it were about him. The flee from righteousness and the fight against it were about him.

All hell broke loose because of stolen gods!

Oh Lord, save your supposedly holy generation from this mammoth corruption from MAMMON infiltration.

1 Timothy 6:10 KJV

For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.

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