CHAPTER 19- BATTLE OF THE BRETHREN

©OPEYEMI AKINTUNDE
AS INSPIRED BY THE CREATIVE ONE

By the end of this one, my hand was shaking as I wrote in my journal.

The quarterly Leaders’ Retreat was supposed to be quiet.
Closed-door.
Invitation-only.

Held in the side hall behind the main auditorium …small, cozy, no livestream.
Just the core leaders, Daddy and Mummy G.O., and three ushers on rotation. Yes! Bro Solomon was present.

And yes… T.J. was invited.

I wasn’t surprised.

After everything, Daddy G.O. still insisted.

“Let the young woman sit and learn. No more hiding. If there’s error in her spirit, this is where it will show. And if there’s truth? Let it strengthen us.”

Some people rolled eyes when her name was announced.
Others whispered.

Me?

I marked my chair behind Mama, notebook ready, ears sharper than eagle’s wing.

Tea break came around 12:30 p.m.

Biscuits, puff-puff, hot Lipton with milk and honey.

I was watching the flow when T.J. reached for her water bottle.
It was a small transparent bottle. Sealed. Label-less.
Just like the ones we normally serve during meetings.

She opened it.
Took two sips.

Paused.

Held her throat.

Coughed.

Eyes widened.

Then she grabbed her stomach and bent forward.

At first, we thought maybe she swallowed air.

Until she began shaking.

Then dropped.

Hard.

Panic…Screaming….Chairs flew.
Daddy G.O. stood.
Mama froze.

People rushed forward…especially Bro Solomon..

I was already dialing 911 …sorry, I mean Brother Seyi the church nurse.

Then…

T.J. began to speak.

But not like usual.

Low voice.
Gravelly.
Like something else was using her mouth.

“ They Poisoned me…The poison was not from the water…It came from the words…From the bitterness…From the altar that was meant to protect me from those I am fighting. ”

Silence.
Everyone froze.
She clutched her chest.
Eyes shut tight.
Then whispered:

“I forgive them. I release them. But… I am tired.”

Tears rolled down her face.
Then she passed out.

I didn’t cry in that moment. But I wanted to.

Because something in my spirit screamed:
“This is more than physical.”

Daddy G.O. stood over her…Raised his hands.
Spoke in tongues I’d never heard him use before… deep, sharp, ancient-sounding.

“Every arrow fired at this vessel backfire!
Every evil hand lifted against her calling …wither!
Let the altar of this house speak mercy!”

We carried her to the back room.

Church nurse said her vitals were low but steady.
Nothing toxic in the bottle.
No allergic reaction.
Just sudden system crash.

Me?
I knew.
Spiritual arrow.

And that meant someone had tried to shut her down …permanently.

After the meeting, Daddy G.O. did something he had NEVER done.

He came on stage for the second service and said publicly:

“This house is under testing…Someone tried to destroy what God is doing.
I will not speak names yet.But I will say this…Every hand that fights grace will soon know what it means for grace to fight back.”

The room?

Cold.

Some people wept.

Some looked away.

But up in the second row?

Edna didn’t move.

Eyes fixed.
Arms folded.
Face hard.
I thought she had repented! Her countenance was saying other wise.

Wahala be like what?
Wahala be like say person drink ordinary water, but jealousy turn am to poison.
(Trouble is when spiritual envy becomes so toxic, even harmless things become deadly.)

Later that night, Mama sat with me in her room.

She was quiet.
Then she said:

“This Girl …I can’t explain her”

I didn’t respond.

Because in my spirit, I knew…
This battle?
It was no longer flesh and blood.

This was altar vs altar.
Spirit vs spirit.
Cain vs grace.

To be continued… ( TO PAY FOR THE THE FULL ACCESS TO THE E-COPY of this Story, Kindly Chat +234-9069926797 to buy your copy)

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