CHAPTER 7 – BATTLE OF THE BRETHREN

©OPEYEMI AKINTUNDE
AS INSPIRED BY THE CREATIVE ONE

Mic Off, Heart On..

It’s me Mabel Again. No sugarcoating. Just the gist, raw and real.

They finally gave her a mic.

After almost eight weeks of watching from the sidelines, blending in, and minding her heaven-bound business, T.J. was asked to “just take the worship for five minutes” during Thursday night choir rehearsal.

I won’t lie…I was shocked.
Not because she wasn’t good.
But because the approval came through Edna.

Yes, Sister Edna herself.
The same Edna who had been dodging her during harmonies.
The same Edna who, just a few days ago, made a snide comment about “mic hygiene” and how new people should serve for at least four months before touching technical equipment.

So when she turned to T.J. and said,

“You can take worship today. Let’s hear what the Lord has deposited in you,”
Everybody froze.
That “let’s hear” sounded sweet, but my spirit screamed setup.

---

T.J. didn’t hesitate. She smiled, collected the mic with two hands in respect like it was communion bread, and quietly said:

“Let’s rise and just whisper thanks to God. We don’t need to shout. Just whisper…”

The choir stood. Some sluggishly. Others suspiciously.
And then she began.

A soft hum.

No lyrics at first. Just this mellow, sweet wave of sound like you were inside a cloud.

Within 60 seconds!!! Atmosphere: shifted.Voices: trembling. Hearts: melting.

Fire everywhere…. It happened so far. She literally threw all of us in the atmosphere.

Even I .. a whole Mabel, seasoned assistant of the pulpit’s pulpit…felt tears pressing at the back of my eyes.

That voice wasn’t just music. That hum wasn’t just humming. It was communication to the father to invite him into our midst in a flash. It was like she dialed Heaven on speed dial.

It was oil.

---

Then the mic crackled.
First time. T.J. paused, smiled. Continued.

Then it cut out completely.
Dead.

She tapped it once, twice. Looked to the sound booth.
Brother Chinedu…the sound guy…was sweating. Literally.

He did the “I’m fixing it” hand wave, but nothing changed.

T.J. didn’t panic. She just stepped away from the mic, raised her voice a little, and continued leading… without the mic.

And guess what?

She got louder.
Not physically. Spiritually.
The Spirit of God moved!

Even without sound, her voice rang like thunder inside people’s bones. Almost everyone dropped to their knees shuddering. Some sobbed in Worship of Five minutes. The choir forgot the harmony. They just followed.

Me? I was already on one knee, whispering:

“ God! Don’t let me miss what you have for us through this girl”
It was obvious God was resident in her life. It was evident God wanted to say a thing or two through her to our church. It was Obvious God wanted us to see how we youths and the General Church should burn for him. Our church had lost her fire. We were just flourishing on old glory.

The teens choir were also having their rehearsal. They didn’t need to be invited to join us. The Presence drew them in. I looked back when I heard footsteps.. I saw them filing in and joining the Worship…
Edna’s legs were somehow glued to the ground. I could see the confusion on her face. I could read the conflict as to whether she should stop the worship or allow herself to be a part of it.
I believe the Lord kept her glued to the same spot till T.J ended the worship after 10 minutes.

---

After the session, Edna clapped.
One of those slow, tight claps with a straight face.
“Powerful,” she said. “Let’s make sure next time, your mic is checked before rehearsal.”
Ah.

Wahala be like what?
Wahala be like when dem give Abel mic, and Cain go hide the battery.
( Trouble is when someone shines, and another person tries to dim the light by pulling out the power source.)

T.J. didn’t react the way any human would have. She innocently just said, “Yes ma,” and went to sit down.

But something changed that day.

A few choir members started calling her “Worship Plug.”
One even whispered, “That girl no need mic. She be the mic.”

Ayaaa!
And that was the beginning of the crack inside the choir wall.

---

Later that night, I got a voice note from Chinedu…the sound guy.
“Sister Mabel, I swear I charged that mic before rehearsal. Battery was full. But once she touched it, the thing blacked out like PHCN was angry.”

I didn’t reply.

What could I say?

Some power outages are not technical.
They’re sabotages born out of envy.

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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