FOUR YEARS AGO

It took every last nerve in Kusi to keep him from burying his head in his hands. He had the look of a person who’d been shot by his best friend.

“Ellen’s husband?”

“The very one. I’ve pondered and prayed, and it is the will of God that he be their next shepherd. Now, I would have done his installation myself, but I have to be in London, and then I’ll be in Cadiz, and then I have about seven more cities to preach in after that. So, that responsibility now falls on you, regional bishop.”

Kusi kept looking at Rhamses’ face as though he expected it to break into laughter, but it remained as serious as ever. He stood up and walked over to the railing on the porch. Rhamses reclined himself in the chair. Kusi took a few minutes, and then came back to his seat.

“When exactly do you want this done, papa?”

“Sometime before the end of next month. That church has been in flux since the scandal. It needs to be stabilized as soon as possible.”

Kusi placed his chin on his hands. “And God decided to choose a man who has had no experience preaching, let a lone leading a church. The mysterious wonders of God are beyond me.”

Rhamses leaned forward like he’d just got his prey where he wanted it. “Is there an issue, son?”

Kusi quickly leaned back in defense. “No, papa. I’m just surprised and processing, but there’s no problem.”

“Good, because I would hate to learn that you disapprove of your father’s decision because you think you know better.”

Kusi somehow cut a relaxed figure in the midst of his ongoing shock. “Never, papa. The Lord has led you this way and I am following your lead.”

Rhamses stood up. “Excellent. Get with Erica and then you both can give Wilson and Ellen the news and plan everything.”

“Wait, he doesn’t already know?”

“No, he doesn’t. And it is your privilege to break it to him, is it not?”

“Of course, Archbishop. We will get it done as soon as possible.”

“See to it, son. I expect a smooth transition.”

As Rhamses was about to step in, Kusi asked, “Papa, what about Bishop Rupert? What happens with him?”

“Don’t worry about him for now. We’ll talk about it at another time. Now, Erica mentioned that she was making my favorite omutuo. I wonder if she’s done yet.”

Rhamses disappeared into the house while Kusi remained outside.

******

PRESENT DAY

Stella Kinzani burst through the main entrance to the church with her heels in one hand and her handbag in another.

“Sorry I’m-”

The words from the apology she intended to yell evaporated at the sight before her. It was nine a.m. and not one volunteer was at church. The lights were on and there was music playing, but no one from the choir, the prayer team, or the media team was in view.

“Had me running up in here for no reason. I hate this craziness!” She irritatedly made her way to the media desk at the back of the church. Her bag had barely touched her chair when a voice thundered tongues into the speakers. It was a testament to the miracle of God that the computers and monitors on the table didn’t crash from Stella’s frightened jump rocking it.

Josh appeared from behind the stage, still blowing tongues into the mic. An annoyed Stella moved to the mixer next to the media desk and hit the mute button, which got Josh’s attention.

“Oh, I didn’t even see you there. Did you just walk in?”

Stella rolled her eyes at him, although she was too far away for him to see it. “No, I’ve been here since the birth of Jesus Christ. Where the heck is everyone?”

“Praying downstairs. Bishop sent word this morning that he’d wanted the prayer team and the choir to spend an extra two hours in prayer before service.”

“And why exactly are you up here?”

“Because this is where I was asked to be when that prayer was happening. Now, my turn to ask the questions. Why do you look homeless? Your eyebrows are all crooked and your hair looks messy.”

Stella rolled her eyes at him. “Bishop asked me to get here early so we could go over some of the media he’d want to use for today’s sermon.”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “When was this?”

Stella paused for a few seconds in thought. “About four Sundays ago.”

“Ah, and you remembered?”

“Josh, this is Bishop Wilson we’re talking about. Are you really asking me this question?”

Josh sat on the edge of the stage. “If I had known about this, I would have texted you this morning so you don’t rush. Bishop Wilson will not be preaching today.”

Stella’s face could not have dropped lower if it tried. “That explains why he hasn’t responded to my texts.”

“Between you and I, he was supposed to be here today, but he can’t make it. Reverend Mason is our guest speaker.”

“Again? This is three Sundays in a row oo!”

“Yeah.”

Stella sat down by Josh. “Have you spoken to him since their trip to Archbishop’s house?”

Josh shook his head.

“Still? Man, what is with you? You’re their armor bearer. At least be in the know so you can know how to protect him and cover him.”

Josh remained silent and just sat there while Stella continued. “It is possible that they may have allowed them to stay, you know. Maybe what you think is happening is not what is happening. But if you don’t ask, none of the other guys will ask, and then it will become assumptions galore. Even if you don’t want to ask for yourself, ask for the sake of the others so they can figure out their lives.”

Josh stood up and picked up the mic. “Service starts in thirty minutes. Please, go get your hair and your face right and come set up so we don’t get in trouble.”

With that, he resumed praying aggressively in tongues.

Stella put her hands up as if to say, ‘I’ve said my piece,’ and then went back to the media desk.

Well, whatever is happening now, it looks like Josh has been left out of the know. Wonder what it is…