Edge of a Cliff

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTION

The stage was set.

Everything and everyone was flawlessly in place. Even the shuffling of feet and the rustling of Sunday best clothes had quieted. We could all feel the tension and excitement building and I knew that some people in the audience would be holding their breath. Some would have palpitations and tiny beads of sweat would trickle down their expensive and bejeweled necklines even though the central air conditioning was perfectly cooling the dome. On the other hand, some people would be shivering and have goose bumps all over their bodies and would have to grip themselves tight to create a semblance of warmth.

Hmm, it was the same reaction every time! Even though I had been through this dozens of times, even though I knew something was not right, I couldn't stop myself from feeling the same way, a feeling of extreme and heightened expectation! I looked around me and recognized the same glazed-over look in the eyes of everybody present. A look similar to lost souls addicted to opium. Their eyes declared the same message; unchallenged and involuntary excitement birthed from expectation. None of us, at that point, could do anything different, no, not even to save our lives. We were completely hooked!

Just then the sultry, drawn out sound of the violin began in a slow, almost melancholy wail. In no time there was the sound of drums beating, at first evenly, then faster, faster, faster and louder, then finally at the crescendo, there was the loud, blaring sound of a trumpet and that finally ushered in the Man of God and everybody went wild, some broke out in unintelligible shouts, some fell out of their chairs, some started speaking in tongues, some clutched their chests, some started crying silently, some closed their eyes tightly against his powerful anointing. It was an incredible, palpable reaction.

 The Man of God had come!

I looked on at the scene and quite suddenly and dramatically, became completely detached from the reality around me. I watched him raise both hands towards the congregation and say in a very weird accent Praise the Lord, people! to which the crowd, jumping to their feet, responded with a thunderous Halleluyah 

You may be seated said the man of God.

I kept looking at him as he began his spell binding on the crowd; it was an art he had mastered to perfection. He spoke so eloquently as he told them that the world was theirs for the taking, that they only had to pronounce ownership on anything and it would automatically belong to them. Where is your faith? he challenged.

He told them they were gods and that they had control over the world's events; he spoke lengthily about sowing and reaping and its extensive benefits. He made it clear that it was not to him that they were sowing because he apparently had no material lack, they were sowing to God and if they expected to reap a big harvest, then they must sow a great, big, seed. So big that it would literally shake the heavens...

As he spoke, I began to feel the familiar feeling of discontent which manifested itself in severe stomach discomfort and subsequent queasiness. I had heard somewhere that stress could lead to ulcers and I believed that this just might be my case. Today for some reason, the symptoms were magnified. I began to wriggle in my seat and look for the nearest clear exit. I tried to bear it because I knew the ushers would pounce on me if I caused a distraction while the man of God was still speaking. So rather than listen to his web of deception, I tuned off and began to contemplate my next action. You see I had come to the point where I knew that not only had I been deceived but that I was now actively participating in deceiving others. I had been in this church for seven years and I had come to realize that everything was a hoax. I felt so bad it made me sick. I knew this in my spirit but had no concrete proof. I suppose that is not strictly true, after all there were rumors of infidelity among us workers and many of the congregation were living in active sin, so deeply and continuously that they had forgotten that it was sin and had fully incorporated it into their everyday lives. I knew all this, but that wasn't what disturbed me so much, I knew there was more, but I couldn't put a finger on it and it made me literarily ill. 

By the way, my name is Ada Lawson, this is my church and I am sick of it! Yes! Sick of the lies, the treachery, the greed and most of all, sick of the sin! It was time to come up with a plan, as The Lord lives, it was time!

 As I continued my scrutiny of the enormous crowd and the look of sheer adoration for the man of God on their faces, it was all I could do to push down the vomit that had risen to my throat and threatened to erupt from my mouth right there and then. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the special soldiers milling about and doing their special work. These were a group of ushers that were mandated to get the number of people in the congregation every hour. They would then email this information to the office workers who had custom made software that could, based on the number of people attending, and using existing data, estimate or project the offering for the day. God forbid that the figure should be lower than the previous weeks' service, heads would surely roll! It was a rare occurrence anyway as we all outdid ourselves to gain recognition and approval from the man of God.

I finally braved the ushers' baleful frown, (he had come to stand beside my seat probably because I drew attention to myself by my constant wriggling and obvious discomfort) got up from my seat and quickly made for the bathroom just as the pastor in charge of brain washing people to give large offerings began his routine. As I walked out I could clearly hear him... God is a BIG God! Your offering must be big enough to shake Him! To move Him to miracles! To...

I barely got to the restroom when the vomit came; I leaned on the wall above the sink and retched till I felt there was nothing left inside of me. How long could I go on? Oh God, please, if you would, HELP ME! I can't go on! This is killing me! I can't continue to close my eyes to the things going on in this ministry but I don't know what to do? Am I a coward? Maybe. I couldn’t even contemplate leaving the church. If I as much as voiced out the thought, I would instantly become persona non grata so I stifled the thought whenever it would come up. 

I heard footsteps on the hallway approaching the ladies' restroom so I quickly regained my composure. It wouldn't do for people to see a highly placed church official breaking down during a service. I would have to answer a million queries besides it would be tantamount to showing up the man of God and a bad example to new converts. We the officials must always present a things are wonderful front as if we were practically in heaven! We all had ready-made phrases; It is well, I am who I say I am; all things are mine; and so on. Well, well, I can tell you for free that far from being all that, most of us were miserable, in debt and on the verge of divorce due to adultery!

I walked over to the mirrors, took my time looking at myself as I simultaneously washed my hands and enjoyed the feel of the luxurious lather formed from the equally luxurious liquid hand-wash. All trappings to portray our prosperity. I dried my hands with the hand dryer and walked back to the mirror just as two other ladies walked into the rest room. They too, were church officials; well they had to be in order to use this facility. Hey, Deaconess Ada! they squealed and proceeded to hug and bless me in another fake charade all the while scrutinizing and analyzing my expensive skirt suit and more expensive jewelry set. Are you okay? one of them asked. As I opened my mouth to answer, the other lady chimed in It is well. Today of all days I had truly had enough of inane church lingua that had no depth, so I looked at them and walked away. 

Let the gossip begin... 

I looked at my wrist watch as I re-entered the church hall and found my seat. I observed that I had been gone for more than thirty minutes and the offering period was rounding up. My, my, it was a large crowd today but of course, it was Easter Sunday!  I didn't need to open my ipad to know that we had amassed a large amount of cash, cheques and pledges and various seed offerings today. The look on the face of the man of God was enough to tell me.

In no time the service ended and I had to sit through three meetings where we rejoiced at the turnout ( money ) and the new souls that were won ( new money ) and strategized on how to run the ministry more effectively ( make more money ). Lord have mercy! I finally got home in the late evening. I had a light meal and barely managed to kick off my shoes before I flopped on my bed, skirt suit and all, then allowed the fatigue that had been my companion for so long and recently escalated, take over and in no time, I was fast asleep, completely dead to the world. Then the dreams began...

CHAPTER TWO

AND I DREAMT...

The queue stretched as long and as far as my eyes could see. The people kept coming; men, women and children of all ages, tribes and race all falling in line. It wasn’t exactly clear where they were coming