By Oghenerukevwe Divine Ogede
The night draped itself in a thick, suffocating darkness; the stars glimmered faintly, their light blurred and dim. The arena buzzed with energy as bodies twirled, dancing with fervor to the choir’s spirited song ministration. As the performance unfolded, the congregation’s initial zeal waned, their faces etched with curiosity and impatience, wondering when the promised miracles would begin. It was the second day of the crusade, yet not a single miracle had been recorded. Those who had come seeking healings and miracles grew restless, their eyes darting nervously toward one another across the crowded arena. They had been assured that Pastor Johnson’s prayers would bring deliverance—that the crippled would rise, the blind would see, the sick would be healed, the deaf would hear, and the mute would sing praises to their Creator. Yet, none of this had come to pass. It was beyond belief!
The pastor, renowned as a demon destroyer, seemed powerless. Had the demons overpowered his authority? Some speculated. Pastor Johnson himself was overcome with grief and frustration as the event spiraled out of control. He had prayed relentlessly, sweat cascading down his body and trickling into his mouth. In that moment, the realization struck him—this failure would bring him shame. “My God!” he cried out. He launched into a song, and the congregation joined in unison. During the hymn, he slipped into an inner chamber, reemerging five minutes later with a radiant smile. He laid hands on a stout woman possessed by a witchcraft spirit; she spun and collapsed, her mouth gaping in agony. He advanced again, touching a slender girl in sheer clothing, who twirled away, spinning through the onlookers to the far side of the arena. The spirit within her ripped her garments apart, leaving her bare and panting on the ground. Restoration, his wife, along with female ushers, rushed to cover her, then whisked her aside to confront the demons tormenting her. A man, insane for twenty years, was also healed.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, and the arena swelled with joyous fervor as people pressed and jostled against one another. Passersby and bystanders nodded in approval, declaring Pastor Johnson a true man of God. “By their fruits you shall know them…” one bystander intoned. “Yet all that glitters is not gold…” another countered. The next day, a series of remarkable healings unfolded at the crusade, leaving people speechless. Among them was a man cured of AIDS, a miracle confirmed by attending doctors. Pastor Johnson’s fame spread like wildfire through the region. What a dramatic spectacle it had become! Yet, as he recalled those days, a pensive yawn escaped him, his spirit weighed down by depression. Prayers formed on his lips, but fear silenced them as he gazed into the inky blackness of the night. He awoke at midnight, watching the clock inch toward 2:00 a.m., far from dawn. Despite the tightly shut windows, a chill gripped him, seeping from within as if seeking revenge. He pulled the duvet over his shoulders, but the cold persisted. Struggling to banish his thoughts, they flooded back, overwhelming him. After what felt like endless hours, he emerged from his torment of imagination and drifted into oblivion. Upon waking, life had returned to Owogun after the night’s silence.
The aroma of fried plantain and stew drifted into the room—his wife had risen at dawn to prepare his favorite meal. He hadn’t eaten the previous night, and her care shone through her early efforts. A hardworking woman, she had bolstered her husband’s ministry, though he often kept her in the dark, silencing her curiosity about his private affairs with stern rebukes. Her submission prevailed, especially during household disputes.When she bore their twins years ago, he insisted she stay with her mother in Benin, dismissing her pleas to care for herself and the babies. “How dare you defy my orders?” he snapped. “Go to Benin and let your mother tend to you!” Reluctantly, she complied. Naïve and married young—when peers explored life—her stunning figure and light skin with brown eyes had drawn admiration. After preparing the meal, she moved through the parlor to check on him, only to find his bed empty. Puzzled, she searched the compound to no avail and returned to her chores.As he walked along the riverbank, crickets kicked earth into their holes at his approach. The air hummed with the shrill of wasps and bees; birds descended from trees, and butterflies fluttered like blooming flowers in the dawn. He entered an inlet, sitting to watch birds, animals, and butterflies bustle about.
The riverbank teemed with vibrant dragonflies and colorful insects sipping nectar from harmless blooms. Johnson marveled at them, never harming a creature, captivated by their beauty. Frogs croaked in a rhythmic symphony, their calls rising and fading. He tossed periwinkle shells, stones, and kernels into the water, marveling as fish leaped and vanished. “Oh, nature is beautiful and invigorating!” he mused, feeling at home in this sanctuary. Years ago, while founding his church, the name A Home Away from Home International Ministry came to him intuitively. He made the riverbank his retreat, drawing power for his ministry. Initially, Owogun’s people mocked him as few attended, but during one visit, a water goddess transformed his shame into triumph. She offered marriage, promising power and wealth in return. Terrified by her radiant, sun-like face, he fled at first, his heart pounding as her icy hands grasped him. “Those who seek sweet wine from the raffia palm must learn to climb. I’ll drown you in wealth if you draw near,” she said, admiring his courage. Kneeling, she gazed into his eyes. Overcome, his fingers traced her slimy form, and they entwined in passion, later chatting on a moored canoe. This union birthed his power, wealth, and fame. He foretold fortunes, tracked evildoers, and gained renown beyond Owogun.
Travelers sought his guidance, offering gifts in gratitude. Once scorned, preachers were now revered, with parents encouraging their children, citing, “According to Pastor Johnson…” His humility and good deeds earned him the title of Owogun’s Job—wealthy, upright, and God-fearing. Beyond his duplex and cars, he owned properties in Lagos and Abuja, earning rent. Passersby whispered in envy as he passed.“Tom! Tom! Tom!” went his stones into the river as he awaited his lover. She usually emerged quickly, but that morning, she delayed. When she finally appeared, dry and smiling, he thrilled at her presence. She settled on a canoe amid crackling wet leaves. He asked why his power faltered during the crusade. “You neglected your home before the event. You can’t have your cake and eat it too,” she replied curtly. “Your disdain for our advice was contemptuous.” His heart raced. “The pregnant woman for sacrifice?” he asked, having ignored her last request. Excited, she confirmed it. Torn, he resolved to resist, even end the relationship if pressed. Sensing his defiance, she glared. “Sacrificing a pregnant woman is evil before God and man,” he declared. Her eyes widened in shock as he averted his gaze, deep in thought. At home, his daughter rushed to embrace him, her feet lifting off the ground. In the sitting room, his wife sulked silently, adhering to her mother’s proverb about a quiet housewife. His attempts to pry words from her failed, and he left her in her melancholy. Dorothy, his daughter, cheered her mother briefly before dozing off. Restoration carried her to bed.A radio news item jolted Johnson awake—his name was announced as guest speaker for a Ghana crusade on May 6, 2012.
The broadcaster’s praise—“a Pentecostal evangelist, a transparent preacher”—filled him with joy. He roused his wife, sharing the news, and they made love all day. His church members rejoiced at his Ghana trip, praying to join his entourage. That night in Ghana, the ivy-clad tower glowed under crusade lights. Insects, smoke, and dust hung in the air as dancers twirled. Cripples crept in, and chained insane individuals were restrained by relatives. A latecomer with a baby learned she stood among the deaf and dumb, fleeing in relief. The blind and disabled waited expectantly.As Pastor Johnson rose, the crowd’s hope lifted his spirits. He recited a Bible verse, launching into deliverance with, “Holy Ghost send down your fire!” The worshippers responded, “Send down your power!” Yet, despite their dancing, no miracles occurred. He drank water, silently calling the goddess, but her silence echoed back. A madman broke free, scattering the crowd. The crusade faltered, leaving Johnson’s dreams broken-winged.Back home, a war raged within him. Taunted by his failure, he considered the goddess’s demand. Seeking Dr. Mills, his childhood friend, he planned to procure a pregnant woman. In Mills’ air-conditioned office, fatigue lined the doctor’s face as he dismissed patients. Johnson’s arrival surprised him.
After trivialities, Johnson revealed his need. Mills, stunned, agreed for a hefty sum. They embraced, and Johnson sped off. The next morning, patients queued at Owogun Public Hospital as Mills arrived. Examining a seven-month pregnant Mrs. Zamy, he sent her away, citing depression, and injected her with a sedative at 4:00 p.m. Johnson collected her at dusk, thanking Mills. Omoko, a bald, muscular palm-wine tapper, spotted Johnson with Zamy by the river. Intervening, a fight ensued. Johnson struck first, but Omoko overpowered him, leaving him battered. Exposed, Johnson fled as Omoko rescued Zamy, alerting the town. An angry mob stormed Johnson’s house, finding him attempting suicide. Police intervened, arresting him. Zamy was hospitalized, while his family vanished.
Background of the author
The author Oghenerukevwe Divine Ogede, lectures in Western Delta University, Oghara Delta State. He is a member of Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) Delta State Chapter. Many of his works have been published works. Among them – a short story: “A Drop of Mercy“, Nesting On The Rocks: An Anthology Volume 1, New Series published in 2023 by the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) Plateau State chapter. His novels are: Unwanted Shadow by Boox and Bransador Limited (2021); Festering Wounds by Kraft (2022); Orgy In The Garden by Boox and Bransador (2024). His poems are: “Too Many Radios Are On” (2024) and “Deltans Cried For Joy” (2011).
Phone number: 08062551183, Whats app number: 09153565375 Email address: ogededivine88@yahoo.com