Desperate for a new life, Thomas Goes to Church

19 Jun Desperate for a new life, Thomas Goes to Church

Thomas spent the rest of the day and the entire night on the sofa. Every few minutes, he glanced back at the bedroom door, desperately wanting to open it, walk through it, and beg for Nancy’s forgiveness.

Even in his inebriated state, he was well aware of how badly he had hurt her. Her eyes had become watery and her shoulders had dropped lower than he had ever seen since that first night they had found each other in Lagos and she ran away to avoid him. She had been doing so well in recent weeks. When she began working, Nancy’s demeanour had become so much more positive. She walked with confidence, her eyes facing straight ahead rather than down to the ground in shame. She smiled more, and she carried herself with poise and dignity, which had been missing from her personality in the early days of their relationship. It was absolutely beautiful. The idea that he could have completely crushed her soaring spirit with one rude, thoughtless remark was heartbreaking.

He lay on the sofa all night long staring at the ceiling. Sleep would not come, no matter how much he begged for it. He listened for movement from the bedroom, but he heard none. He thought he had heard Nancy sobbing, but he could not be sure if the sound was real or if it was just a terrible noise playing in an endless loop inside his brain. Twice, he sat up and considered going to apologise, but he could not bring himself to go through with it. He wasn’t sure if she would be willing to forgive him, now or any time in the future, and he could not bear the thought of her rejecting him. And why shouldn’t she?

Although Nancy credited him with making her feel that her life was worthwhile, she would also charge him with building her up just to bring her back down harder than one could imagine. He wondered if she would be able to recover from such a heinous assault on her character. Nancy was very strong and she had more talents and gifts to offer the world around her than he could ever dream of possessing. Still, he knew that deep down she doubted herself, that although she had spent years doing all the wrong things for all the right reasons, she wondered if her life could ever be justified, revived, or valued. He wondered how much damage he had done to her soul and if, at this point in her life, it could fully be repaired. In the end, Thomas believed that since he had caused the destruction, it was his obligation to mitigate the damage. He just did not know where to begin.

When the sun started to rise, throwing its light upon the city and through the window into the living room, Thomas wondered how he would face the lady for whom he had an undying love. He took some more vodka from a new bottle to embolden himself, but only a little; replacing the cap after a small swig and then settling down to wait for Nancy to emerge from the bedroom.

A few minutes before the clock struck eight o’clock, Thomas finally heard the sounds of Nancy moving about, getting dressed. He was surprised by how nervous those sounds made him feel. The bedroom door would soon open and Nancy would emerge to find him still sprawled out on the sofa, looking just as pathetically dishevelled as he had been the day before. Would she be surprised to see him? Did she think he had left? Would she wish that he had gone?

Thomas braced himself when he heard the crackle of the doorknob and the squeaking of the hinges. When the door finally opened, Nancy emerged. She wore a simple cotton dress, understated yet elegant, accessorised by a pair of white patent leather shoes and a matching purse. She had pulled her long, silky hair back into a ponytail, which showed off her prominent brown eyes, her full lips, and her smooth, flawless skin. Thomas drew in a deep breath at her stunning beauty.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, not seeming surprised to find that he was there, but not appearing particularly pleased about it either. She flashed him a stern look. Thomas could not be sure exactly what that look was supposed to imply, but he knew it wasn’t anything good.

Nancy let out a soft sigh, walked past Thomas on the sofa, and headed directly for the apartment door. Her keys rattled in her hand as she moved across the room.

“Nancy,” Thomas called out.

She stopped, turned around, and looked directly at him.

“Are you all right, my dear?” he asked.

She let out a huff. “Of course, I am,” she said flatly. “Why shouldn’t I be? I didn’t mess up my body with hemp and liquor yesterday.”

Thomas swallowed hard. He could not think of a reasonable response to her statement and was not sure whether any answer would suffice at this moment. Nancy continued to stare blankly at Thomas’s face. She wasn’t displaying any anger, pain, disgust, or disappointment. In fact, she wasn’t displaying any emotion at all, leaving him with no strategy for addressing her.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally said.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” she replied.

She turned her back on him and reached for the doorknob.

“Wait!” he called out.

She turned back to face him, again with no emotion.

Thomas tried to hide the anguish in his voice. “Are you going to church now?” he asked.

She nodded matter-of-factly.

“Can I…” His voice trailed off uncomfortably.

She waited a few seconds for him to put his thoughts together, but quickly became impatient. “What?” she pressed.

Thomas drew in a deep breath and blurted out the words. “Can I go with you?”

Her mouth slowly transformed into a sweet smile. “Not looking like that, you can’t,” she remarked with a laugh.

Thomas looked down at this sweaty vest and underpants. He was in need of more than just a change of clothes. He needed to shower, shave, and wash his hair before he would look suitable to go out in public, especially to a church service.

“Do I have time to clean up?” he asked. “I really do want to join you.”

Nancy walked back over to him and dropped down onto the sofa cushions. “Start cleaning up,” she said. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”

 

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The Lord’s Church at Apapa was bursting at the seams with activity when Thomas and Nancy arrived there in a taxi. The weather was cool and inviting for outdoor activities, but everybody in the expansive compound was headed for inside the church.

“Are you sure this is a church? It looks more like a coliseum!”

The church building stretched over several acres. Its steeple shot into the sky like a giant periscope from the sharply pitched roof. The spacious parking lot completely circled the edifice. Thomas could not help but stare at the vast number of expensive vehicles that were parked out in the open. Freshly waxed Mercedes Benz models sat next to Porsches and Ferraris.

“Is that a Rolls Royce?” Thomas gasped.

Nancy glanced at the car, but was not particularly interested. “It could be, I guess.”

Thomas came to an abrupt halt when a shiny black sports car rolled slowly past them in search of a parking space.

“Did you see that?” Thomas exclaimed, his mouth agape.

Nancy nodded. “I’ve seen that car before,” she said. “They come to services every Sunday.”

Thomas was astonished. “That’s a Lotus,” he informed her. “That’s the same model that was featured in some of the James Bond movies.”

Nancy laughed. “It’s nice to know that James Bond goes to our church,” she joked. “The congregation will be protected against international super-spies.”

Thomas’s eyes followed the vehicle as it manoeuvred through the lot. “I’ll bet that car is worth more than the entire geographic real estate of Ajegunle.”

Nancy shrugged. Money had never been something that impressed her. “It doesn’t look like it would be very comfortable to drive. You almost have to lie on your back to squeeze inside of it. Getting out must be even harder.”

“I think James Bond uses the ejector seat,” Thomas cracked.

They both enjoyed a playful laugh as they filtered into the crowd of people that was snaking through the large front doors and into the inner vestibule.

Thomas was not about to share this thought with Nancy, but he recalled a moment when a member of Kenny’s team had suggested that they rob a church. Thomas had always questioned the motives of the people who ran churches in Lagos. He was not convinced that spirituality was the first thing on their minds and saw many of them as people who made themselves rich by profiting from the spiritual needs of those people who truly believed. The true believers tended to be those who struggled in life, and if they did not have their faith on which to cling so tightly, they would not have anything at all.

Thomas had no qualms about robbing the church officials. The way he saw it, they were no more honest than the members of Kenny’s team. They played the same game; they just wore different uniforms. Still, Thomas could not bring himself to crush the hopes of all the people who came to the church to pray to their Lord with every beat of their hearts. He wondered what Kenny had thought he could gain from doing something like that. Now, looking at all the money rolling around through the church parking lot, he understood why the members of Kenny’s team had gotten such an idea. Still, he found himself doubting as to whether it was a good one.

The scene inside the building was just as impressive as it was outdoors. The church was designed to seat one thousand parishioners and, to Thomas’s eyes, the rows of pews appeared to go on forever. The high ceilings stretched up to the rooftop, and the stained-glass windows, with their brightly coloured holy displays, looked like grand images lowered from the heavens. At that time of day, the sun hit directly upon them, sending beams of coloured light streaming across the venue.

Thomas found himself patting the wrinkles out of his suit jacket and trousers, feeling a sudden urge to look even more presentable than usual. Not all of the other parishioners were wealthy. In fact, it was perfectly clear that a significant number of them were from some of the poorest neighbourhoods in Lagos. Even so, everyone had obviously made their greatest effort to look as nice as they could to attend the service. To them, worship was a special event, and although they realised that God did not judge them by their clothing, they still believed that it was imperative that they show their utmost respect, not only to their Lord, but to their fellow worshippers, and perhaps most of all, to their own souls. This did not require a great deal of cash. All it required was a sense of personal pride.

As he and Nancy made their way to a pew, Thomas looked around in all directions, taking in the sight. He was amazed by the vast diversity of the congregation. The wealthy joyfully intermingled with the struggling. Older folks chatted with teenagers. Families with young children shook hands with people from various generations. Single people greeted couples, young and old. Everyone was made to feel welcome. Even on his very first visit, Thomas was overtaken by a serene sense of belonging.

As the hands on the large clock approached the top of the hour, streams of people were still filing into the pews. The place was packed, and the pews were overflowing. Pretty soon, there were more worshippers in the building than there were pews to seat them. Younger folks quickly stood to offer their seats to older people or to families with small children.

Thomas’s spirit was lifted by the sight of such sincere generosity. After spending the last few months working with people whose greatest concerns were money, power, and dominance, it was inspiring to be reminded that there really were people in the world who did not always put their own wants and desires ahead of the needs of others.

The organ chimed, prompting the large choir into singing praise songs that brought the congregation to its feet, singing and dancing. They were backed by a large band with modern instruments and Thomas tried to dance but felt weak at the knees. He spent most of the thirty minutes of the praise worship watching Nancy dance beautifully, and he felt extremely proud to be her man.

At the end of the praise worship, Thomas was surprised how quickly a room containing more than one thousand people, many of them children, could suddenly turn silent in anticipation.

A fat elderly man in a sharp pin-striped suit mounted the pulpit, said an opening prayer and introduced another man who he called the ‘quest preacher’ for the day. He called him Pastor Peter Olutobi. Pastor Peter, as some people called out, promptly took his place at the pulpit and shouted, “Praise the Lord!”

The congregation thundered, “Amen!”

Pastor Peter was a tall, handsome man, a little grey at the temples. His well-tailored suit accentuated his frame, making him appear even taller and leaner than he probably was. Thomas guessed him to be in his early fifties, old enough to have acquired a great deal of life experience and yet young enough to relate to the difficulties faced by the generations that had come of age behind him. He held up his hand in a welcoming gesture and smiled broadly upon the congregation.

Although he had been inspired by the demeanour of the people who joined him in the pews, Thomas’s scepticism regarding church officials was still intact, and thus he was not quite sure what to make of the pastor who stood before him. Was he up there to offer spiritual guidance or was he simply getting ready to put on a show for a hungry audience?

Thomas glanced over at Nancy, who was focusing every ounce of her attention toward the altar. She caught him peeking at her, but she decided not to play with him. If he wanted to understand why coming to church was so important to her, he would have to make the effort to experience the service for himself.

After going through his hellos and welcomes, Pastor Peter moved onto the theme of his sermon. “We are all human,” he began, “and as such, we are a long way from being perfect. That’s all right, though. How many times have we heard someone say, ‘Hey, nobody’s perfect’?”

The congregation let out a series of laughs and hollers.

“No, we’re not perfect,” Pastor Peter continued, “and I hate to be the one to break it to you, but none of us will ever be perfect. Human beings are not perfect creatures, and thus there is no such thing as a perfect human being.” He took a dramatic pause. “That fact may tempt some of you to throw your hands up in the air and give up. You may wonder, ‘If I will never be perfect, why should I bother striving for perfection? Wouldn’t that be a futile exercise and a complete waste of time?’”

“Yes,” Thomas muttered under his breath, “it would.”

Nancy punched him on the thigh. He let out a small playful laugh and she smiled.

“No!” the pastor exclaimed. “It is not a futile exercise, and it is definitely not a waste of time. Learning about yourself, improving yourself, and coming up with new reasons to love God will never be a waste of time. When you make these efforts, what you are really doing is giving even greater value to this wonderful life that God has bestowed upon you. You are taking what He has given you and you are making it better — just as He has requested. Heaven helps the man who helps himself! The more you work to help yourself become a better person, the more you will feel the grace and joy that comes with living the life that God has given you.”

Thomas sat back in the pew and folded his arms across his chest. He was surprised by how intrigued he was by the pastor’s words. The concept of helping oneself suddenly had a different connotation. It was not a matter of helping oneself to whatever one wanted by merely taking it. It was a matter of helping oneself become something stronger and more beautiful on a personal level.

For a moment, Thomas wondered if that was what the pastor actually meant or if that was a meaning that he as a listener had imposed upon the pastor’s words. Then again, did that really matter? Perhaps this experience would transcend definition. It was possible that each person listening to that sermon was taking away a different message, a message that may have been determined by what each person — young, old, married, single, wealthy, or struggling — brought to the dance.

“God loves us all, and he desires us to stay close to Him as children would their parents. I have heard people say ‘I am too dirty or evil to get close to God.’ I like responding to these people with the story of my life, as I would today. As some of you already know,” the pastor went on, “my soul was not always in touch with God. I spent most of my youth resenting my family’s poverty. I watched both of my parents work twenty-hour days. My mother was scrubbing floors on her hands and knees and my father lay tar for the roads in the blazing sun. They barely brought home enough money to put food on the table and a roof over our heads. Sometimes we had to ration the food, and the roof always leaked whenever it rained. I didn’t believe there was a God because I felt that He had forsaken us. I cursed my local preacher because I felt he had been lying to us. He told me that I had to continue to keep faith in God. No, I didn’t have faith at that time. I hated my preacher because I thought he was telling me that my family’s problems were my fault, that my lack of faith was the reason we were hungry and broken.”

Thomas continued to take in the story. He glanced over at Nancy once more and saw that her eyes were closed and her brow was furrowed, as if she were meditating, her concentration wrapped around every one of the pastor’s syllables.

“I left home when I was fourteen years old,” Pastor Peter told his congregation. “I was angry, frustrated, and tired of suffering. I was going to find myself a truck full of money, bring it back home to my parents, and give them the chance to tell all the people who ever used and abused them to rot in hell.”

Without realising it, Thomas was nodding. He knew how it felt to watch one’s parents struggle to live a noble life, and it had always been his dream to strike it rich so they could live the comfortable life they truly deserved.

“Of course, the streets are crowded with young angry men,” the pastor continued. “As tough as I thought I was, there was always someone tougher who could throw me against a wall and take whatever I had in my pockets. I walked around looking for boys smaller than me, and I would do the same terrible thing to them. I soon realised that I couldn’t survive the streets of Lagos on my own, so I sought out protection from the bigger boys. The only way I could get that was to earn it by doing their dirty work. I lifted goods from stores, I mugged people in the streets, and I hot-wired cars and stole them.

“Then the stakes got even higher. The gangs made money selling drugs, so I went out and did some two-bit pushing for them — and then I fell right into their trap. They didn’t want to share their money with me, so they set me up so that they wouldn’t have to. One of the big shots said, ‘You look stressed out, little brother. Try this stuff. It will calm you down.’ That stuff was cocaine, just a taste of it. It felt good, so I tried some more, and then some more after that. The next thing I knew, I was being paid for my pushing with drugs instead of cash — and I was all right with that. I wanted more. I couldn’t stop.” The pastor took a breath and wiped his brow with his handkerchief.

“Soon, the coke wasn’t enough. I needed something stronger to take the edge off. That’s when I started with the heroin. At first, I was just sniffing it, but in a matter of days, I was sticking needles into my arms.”

Thomas found himself sitting forward in his pew. He had seen boys just like this. They tried to mask their pain with narcotics, and all they managed to do was create an even deeper pain. Hundreds of these boys, with their track-marked arms and vacant stares, littered the streets of Lagos.

“I don’t suppose I need to tell you that when you travel down that road, it eventually takes you to one of two places: to the Lord or to the morgue,” the pastor stated.

The congregation chimed in with sporadic shouts of “Amen!” Thomas bit his lip as he became more intensely involved in the pastor’s message.

“I almost didn’t make it,” the pastor said. “I was probably one heartbeat away from leaving this world. I fixed myself up with something the folks on the street call a ‘speedball’. That’s a tight combination of coke and smack or cocaine and heroin. It’s supposed to take you up so high that you feel like you will never come down. Well, guess what? Everybody does come down, but not everybody comes down alive. In fact, some people have no intention of coming down alive. That’s how far gone you are when you reach the point where you’re cueing up a speedball.”

Pastor Peter drew in a deep breath, dabbed his brow once more, and surveyed his audience. He wanted to make sure that they were still right there with him — and they most certainly were.

“To be honest,” he confessed, “I have no idea what I intended to do that day. I didn’t think I wanted to die, but then again, I didn’t want to go on with the life I was leading, and I couldn’t think of any other way to get out of it.”

He let out a tired laugh. “To this day, I have no idea how I ended up in the hospital. I woke up and found myself attached to all kinds of machines that were flashing and beeping. I didn’t know if I was dead or alive. When the dust finally cleared and the doctors told me I would survive, I didn’t know whether I should be happy or sad. I spent the next few days in the hospital, lying in that bed and looking up at the blank ceiling. I couldn’t do anything but think, and let me tell you something, my friends, we don’t take the time to shut off the world and think enough. While I was stuck in that bed, I actually wished the outside world could barge into the hospital and aggravate me. The only company I had at that time was myself, and I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around.”

The congregation laughed. There was a feeling of sadness to their laughter, yet there was also a sense of poignancy and hope.

“Believe it or not,” he told the congregation, “those turned out to be the greatest days of my life. That was the time when I came to the crossroads. It was time for me to make an important choice. I chose to forgive.”

A chorus of “Amens” came from the worshippers. Thomas, however, found himself feeling confused. He chose to forgive? Forgive who? Why?

It was as if Pastor Peter was reading Thomas’s mind. “I didn’t need to forgive God because He hadn’t forsaken me. I didn’t need to forgive my old preacher because he hadn’t lied to me. There was only one person I needed make peace with and that was myself.”

Cheers came from the pews.

“That’s right,” he continued. “I asked to be forgiven for losing my faith. I asked to be forgiven for leaving my family. I asked to be forgiven for all the vile and horrific things I had done when I was strolling the streets of Lagos. I regretted my choices and my actions, and I thanked God for giving me another chance at life. I didn’t need to beg desperately for His forgiveness. I only thanked Him because he had already forgiven me. That is the power of His unconditional love.”

When Thomas turned toward Nancy, he was overwhelmed by the beauty of her smile. She was beaming with complete happiness, and seeing her look so blissful literally took his breath away.

“No, I did not need to beg for God’s forgiveness,” the pastor continued, “but I still had something to accomplish. I needed to forgive myself.” He drew in a deep breath. “That’s a hard thing, isn’t it? When other people hurt us, we can usually find a way to forgive them. They tell us they are sorry, and we usually pat them on the back and tell them everything’s all right. Why then do we find it so hard to be as charitable toward our own selves? We say things like, ‘I should have known better. How could I have been so foolish? What was I thinking?’ Then we punish ourselves, and half the time, we don’t even know that we’re doing it! We treat ourselves badly. We deride ourselves. We deny ourselves happiness because we’ve convinced ourselves that we aren’t worthy of joy, pleasure, or love. We engage in abusive relationships because we don’t think we deserve something better. We settle for less because we don’t think we are entitled to more.”

Thomas noticed a tear in the corner of Nancy’s eye. He caught it with his finger as it rolled down her cheek.

“God loves us! He loves us! He loves us! He wants us to come back home no matter how far we have strayed.”

The congregation voiced its collective approval.

“Thus, I made the choice to forgive myself for all my indiscretions,” the pastor said. “In so doing, I embraced my precious life and promised to live at its greatest potential to God. You don’t have to be one step away from death to do this. You can take a deeper look at your life, your existence, and your place in this world. If God can forgive you, you can forgive yourself, and once you do, you will finally feel worthy enough to claim the happiness that you so rightfully deserve.”

Pastor Peter went on and on for about two hours, getting the congregation on its feet a number of times. Thomas was touched, and Nancy could see it in his body language — the way that he leaned forward and sat with his arms by his sides, not defensively folded across his chest now. She was surprised when he did not join the many others for the altar call to give themselves to Christ, but she was confident that a major first step had been taken in this man’s new life.

 

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“I haven’t been to church in years. In fact, I don’t think I’ve actually stayed awake through an entire service since I went to the university.”

“Thomas,” Nancy scolded, “I don’t think Pastor Peter needs to know all that.”

The pastor laughed. “That’s all right,” he said. “The honesty is very refreshing. Too often, people tell me things they think I want to hear. I would much rather hear the truth. We can’t move forward if we keep lying to ourselves.” He had offered to stay around for people to consult him, and Nancy was happy that Thomas had agreed to go with her to see him.

Nancy nodded, although she still appeared slightly embarrassed by Thomas’s blatant honesty. Thomas was, however, too wrapped up in the moment to care. A little social discomfort was not important to him.

“I’ve done so many awful things during the past few months,” he confessed. “I can’t believe how I continued to justify everything while I was doing it. I always managed to come up with a reason why it wasn’t so bad or how this person had it coming. Even then, I knew I was lying to myself, but I did it anyway. You’re right, Pastor. Forgiving oneself is the hardest part. I have hurt Nancy so badly. She forgives me, and yet I still hate myself for it.”

Pastor Peter patted Thomas on the shoulder. “It’s not easy,” he told him, “but you can’t throw a veil of pity over your sins. They will eat you up from the inside, and then you will eventually be no good to anyone — not to Nancy, your family, or yourself. My best advice is that you think about what you’ve done and remember how you feel right at this moment. Then make a promise to yourself that you will never do anything that has the potential to make you feel this way ever again. And of course, you need God’s Grace to be able to do that.”

Thomas smiled. For once in his life, he had received spiritual advice that he could hold on to and use to better himself. That in itself was a revelation.

“You should start by returning the ring,” Nancy said it so loud that it startled Thomas.

He felt like he had just been sucker-punched in the stomach. He had forgotten about the ring — and he liked it that way. He had no desire to revisit that night or the circumstances under which the ring had landed in his pocket.

“What’s the story behind the ring?” the pastor asked sincerely.

Thomas was suddenly consumed with shame. He wanted to say, “forget it,” but he didn’t have a chance. The news that the ring had been stolen instantly tumbled out of Nancy’s mouth. He was just grateful that she didn’t tell the pastor that it had been taken in such a violent fashion. Still, he would have been even more grateful if he could have left the church without discussing the topic at all.

“Do you know the identity of the ring’s rightful owner?” the pastor wondered.

Thomas shook off his embarrassment and thought for a moment. “I think I know where he works,” he answered. “I remember seeing his company ID card.”

As soon as the last word left his mouth, Thomas wished that he had not shared that information. He knew that Nancy would want him to make a soulful effort to return the ring, which in itself was something he had no qualms about doing. In fact, he would have appreciated the opportunity to return the ring and cleanse his guilty soul in the process. Unfortunately, it was not likely to be such a simple matter. Fanni had jammed a gun into the throat of the man’s wife and then slapped her viciously across the face.

Thomas knew that if someone had done something like that to Nancy, he would not be so willing to offer the attacker his forgiveness. He was afraid that if he encountered that man again, he would immediately be arrested and rightfully so. He would then face many years in prison that he was certain he would never manage to survive. As much as he wanted to cleanse his soul, he was not ready to give up his mortal life to do it.

The pastor could sense Thomas’s apprehension. “Don’t worry, Thomas,” he said. “God is a holy God, and none of us can meet his standard of perfection. God knows everything about you and still desires to save you. The punishment for all our sins was taken on the cross. Because of Christ’s death, God can pardon all. Will you let him pardon you?”

“The ring. I may be arrested if..,” Thomas tried to explain the challenge he faced.

Pastor Peter patted Thomas on the shoulder again. “The answer will come at the right time. Somehow it always does. Take a deep breath, relax, and be aware of all the signs you receive. God will eventually lead you in the direction He wants you to take. I will pray for you.”