Bishop Ansah walked with his hands behind his back the entire length and breadth of the vast auditorium. He has been doing this for the past two hours in the chapel with a capacity of 6,000! Oblivious to his surroundings, he was immersed in deep thought.
“Dear Lord, what sort of trouble is this?” he soliloquized.
He was carrying a tremendous burden. He had wanted to come to the chapel to pray and beseech the Lord for mercy. However, he had spent the entire time prance-walking throughout the entire auditorium.
“But thou O Lord are a shield about me. My glory, and the lifter of my head!” He prayed.
“And whatever time I am afraid, I will trust in thee”, he continued in his supplications.
“You have asked that I should come before your throne of grace to obtain mercy and grace in time of need. Lord, I am before your throne. Show thyself strong. Deliver me from all my troubles!”
He spent the entire night praying at the church, imploring the Lord to intercede in their predicament as he had for the Israelites.
It was exactly one week before the church's annual minister's conference, a program that through the years has gained international recognition. Numerous ministers of the gospel from over the world had registered to attend the conference, and all indications were that this year's program will be bigger and better. Five internationally renowned preachers were scheduled to speak during the weeklong program. The media had been sufficiently involved to generate interest in this crucial program.
However, here he stood—appearing defeated. Perhaps forgetting that those who were with him were greater than those against him.
"What will my enemies say, though?" He continued in thought.
The entire week, he refused to see anyone, not even his family. He had also avoided his ministerial colleagues. Rev. Mrs. Victoria Ansah had repeatedly demanded to know what the problem was.
Was it really simple to share such a delicate matter with anyone? What if the details became public? How would he handle things? How would the church behave? How happy would his adversaries and foes be?
What, however, has consumed the founder and general overseer of one of Accra's largest churches for a whole week?
This takes us back a week.
He received a call from one of his junior pastors only a week ago, requesting an urgent meeting with him. It was a holiday, and the bishop planned to spend it shopping and relaxing at the mall with his family. The junior pastor, on the other hand, maintained that this subject could not wait because it was kingdom-related and may break the church. The bishop had no choice but to give in after Pastor Edwin worded it that way.
Amazing Souls Worship Center members were well aware that when it came to their founder and senior pastor, the ministry came first, followed by his family. This was no mystery because he had mentioned it in nearly every sermon he had preached in the Church's twenty-two years of existence. So, if you wanted to catch the handsome choleric minister's attention, you'd better find a way to tie your problem to the church.
Pastor Edwin sped into the bishop's estate in East Legon at 11 a.m. in his Toyota Rav 4. He was accompanied by his wife, Sarah, who wore an abnormally stern expression. Mrs. Nyarko was in a bad mood that morning, which was not surprising given the couple's turbulent marriage.
Pastor Bismark Kissiedu and his wife Shirley came in their silver Toyota Highlander just five minutes after Edwin and Sarah. They weren't as glum as the Nyarkos, but they weren't their regular selves—the joyful couple known throughout the church.
“What an invasion of my home this morning?” the bishop bellowed as he came out to meet the noisy visitors.
"Good morning, Bishop!" the four appear to say at the same time.
“Yess! Good morning my children!”
"Edwin, you didn't say you were bringing a battalion!"
Pastor Edwin began, "Yes, Daddy..." "However, I'm afraid this issue affects all of us here."
"Hmmm!" muttered the bishop. "I already got a horrible feeling in my spirit!"
The four of them bowed their heads, the two women fiddling with their hands.
The host took them to the gardens of his luxurious mansion—his pride, reflecting his position as senior pastor of one of the country's most prosperous churches, and also befitting the location of his residence—East Legon, one of Accra Ghana's finest residential neighbourhoods.
"Let us pray together!" suggested the bishop.
"We thank you, Lord, for this fellowship and our lives. We thank thee for your numerous blessings in our lives, as well as the unending mercy and grace you rain on us daily. May today's discussions be fruitful for the glory of your name. We will always bless you. We prayed in Jesus' name. Amen!”
“Amen!” the pastors and their spouses feebly sounded.
“Hey! Why are you all so downcast?” the bishop inquired. “Cheer up. You all look so dispirited. Come on, come on! Cheer up!” he admonished further.
“Now, Edwin, talk to me!”
Pastor Edwin cast a glance towards Bismark, who had had his head lowered the entire time.
“Hmmmmm!” Ewin sighed.
"We're sorry, Daddy!" Pastor Bismark knelt to beg forgiveness.
"We are truly sorry. Please forgive us!" Edwin extended.
The bishop was beginning to feel concerned at this point. Both women's loud sobbing seemed to make him lose patience.
“Hey, my children! I am your father. Talk to me. You are making me pensive!”
The men had joined in the lamentations of their women by this point, with the four on their knees.
"Bishop, you won't understand!" exclaimed Pastor Edwin. "We have done you wrong and disappointed you!"
"Look here, whatever the situation is, we will overcome it with the power of the Holy Spirit!" the bishop said in an attempt to soothe the grieving gathering,
Oh, how the heavens wished he had foreknowledge of the news that was going to be delivered!
TO BE CONTINUED…
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