CHAPTER 22 – BATTLE OF THE BRETHREN

©OPEYEMI AKINTUNDE
AS INSPIRED BY THE CREATIVE ONE

I overheard Daddy G.O. speaking with Mummy G.O. Their voices were low but loaded. The kind of conversation that made you pause outside the door and lean your ear without meaning to. The door was slightly opened. I could see Mummy G.O

It was intense.

“I don’t know why you’re letting the devil use you,” Daddy G.O. said quietly, but there was fire in his tone.

Mummy G.O. flared up. “How dare you say that to me? I’m only being careful. Should I open the altar to just anyone?”

There was a pause. Then his voice returned, calmer but heavier.

“We’re getting tired, my love. You know it. Ministry is weighing on us. Our kids are still young, and the assignment is not slowing down. If the Lord sends us help…help that looks like a younger version of you…you should be humble enough to pull her close, not push her away.”

He sighed deeply.

“I’ve been praying for revival, you know that. But sometimes, the answers we pray for don’t come wrapped in the robes we expect. They don’t come like the tall sons of Jesse. They come like David..small, unassuming, but carrying oil. They come like vessels that have prepared themselves in the wilderness. Instead of pushing her away or fighting her, why don’t you draw her close and hear her story. She may be a General in the body of a young lady.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Her silence said more than words.

“I just don’t want strange fire burning our altar,” she said finally, arms folded across her chest.

Daddy G.O. looked at her. “Strange fire,” he repeated, then shook his head. “Strange fire is when we try to fight the flame God lit Himself. When God raises a light and we try to cover it, that’s when we become the strange ones. T.J. may be unusual, yes. But you were once unusual too.”

She turned her face away.

“You think I’m jealous,” she muttered.

He didn’t rush to deny it. Instead, he spoke with a kind of painful honesty.

“No. I think you’re afraid. And fear often wears the mask of caution.”

A stretch of silence passed between them. Even the ticking clock seemed to slow down.

“You were once her,” he continued. “The fiery young woman no one could understand. You prayed until chains broke, even when people questioned why a woman was leading deliverance sessions. You were T.J., My dear. Thirty years ago. I stood by you”

A single tear traced its way down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away.

“I’ve fought to keep this altar pure,” she whispered.

“And now you must fight to keep it pliable,” he answered softly. “The same God who used you might be trying to use her. If we resist, the revival we’ve prayed for all these decades could pass us by.

“My love, He is the God of yesterday, today, and forever. The God who used you for our generation yesterday is the same God who wants to use another vessel..one much like you…for this generation today. We should be grateful He still wants to move on our altar; it means He intends to sustain what we’ve built.”

He took her hands, his voice breaking with earnestness.

“Sweetheart, it wouldn’t cost God anything to raise her up to start a church right beside ours and draw away our members overnight. You heard Bro Solomon…he gave us six months before he considered leaving. Do we really want to lose everything God has used us to build simply because we refuse to embrace younger help?”

I felt the ache in his words. He had spent more than thirty years pouring his life into this ministry, and his strength was no longer what it used to be. This..right here…was the church’s Achilles’ heel: leaders holding on to power even when their hands can’t grip the reins like before. In the corporate world, CEOs who want their companies to outlive them hire younger managing directors or step back into oversight roles. But in church circles, we call it “Order” and dig our heels in.

A sigh slipped from her lips. Her posture softened..Just a little
“What if I don’t know how to share the spotlight?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Daddy G.O. stepped closer.

“Then ask the Holy Spirit to teach you. Grace doesn’t dim your light. It multiplies it.”

She didn’t answer, but he saw her grip ease. Her face still held tension, but something had shifted. Surrender? Maybe. Maybe just enough to give room for something new to grow.

“Let’s not let the enemy twist what God is doing,” he said. “Let’s bring her close. Mentor her before rejection mentors her instead. There are a lot of churches that shouldn’t exist out there, that are borne out of rejection from older prophets.”

After a long pause, she finally nodded.

Later that evening, I found Mama sitting alone in her office.
No makeup.
Just her Bible… and tears.

She whispered:

“Mabel…Am I becoming what I once hated?”

And I couldn’t lie.

I just knelt beside her, hugged her and wiping her tears.

I silently prayed as I held her..

“Lord… let this house not become the graveyard of the move You sent.”

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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