“And the word of says, in Hebrews 6:10… it says, ‘For God is not unjust to forget your work and labour of love, which you have shown toward His name in that you have ministered to the saints, and do minister…”

Another Sunday morning. Another guest appearance at a church for Amos.

In the bright, freshly painted sanctuary of Restoration Chapel International, the congregation were settled into their seats, listening with rapt attention as he stood behind the wooden pulpit, white Bible open in front of him, his voice ringing with conviction.

“Listen to me, people of God!” he spoke out loudly as he stepped out from behind the pulpit, eyes scanning the attentive faces before him. “The God that we serve is a God of remembrance. And I am here to tell you this morning, that the Lord is going to bless you for all you are doing for Him, in the name of Jesus!”

“Amen!” the congregation echoed eagerly.

“God sees you,” he continued, gesturing as he walked the length of the platform. “Every prayer. Every offering. Every act of kindness done quietly. He has not forgotten you. And as long as He sits on the throne and intervenes in the affairs of men, that prayer you have been praying and wondering when the answer will come, it will come and surprise you!”

Another loud “Amen!” erupted from the congregation.

Amos was about to continue when he stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing slightly as though he had caught a glimpse of something invisible. He tilted his head.

“You, young man,” he said, pointing toward the fifth row on the right of the auditorium. “Yes, you in the black t-shirt.”

The young man looked around in disbelief, then slowly stood.

“Come,” Amos ordered, his tone gentle. “Don’t be afraid. This is your hour of visitation. The Lord has a word for you.”

The young man approached the front, unsure of what to expect. Amos met him halfway, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“I see in the realms of the Spirit that you’ve been asking God whether to continue chasing this dream of yours,” Amos began, voice steady. “There have been moments you almost gave up. You’ve been praying in your room, asking God if He sees you. And I hear Him saying: I see you. I hear you.”

The young man’s mouth dropped slightly. His hands shook.

“You’re a boxer,” Amos continued matter-of-factly. “You’ve been training hard, but it’s like doors have not opened yet, and you are wondering if they ever will. Listen to me: if you remain faithful, if you keep your heart right, your name will be on people’s lips. God will lift you through this craft—but He wants your character to grow with it. Stay faithful.”

The young man burst into tears, hands covering his face. A few congregants clapped, rising to their feet as emotion swept through the room.

“That’s the Holy Spirit at work,” the pastor of the church, Reverend Noble Osiahene, whispered from the side of the pulpit, smiling.

Amos gently pulled the young man into a quick hug, then handed him a handkerchief. “Go and prosper, my brother. God is not unjust to forget.”

The congregation erupted in applause as the instrumentalists played celebratory sounds, celebrating this young man’s future. As Amos turned back toward the pulpit with a smile on his face, though, nobody else could see the bitter storm in his heart.

Just look at this, just look at this! So as for me, I can see other people’s future clearer than I can see my own bank account? Ah! Boxing breakthrough. Business revival. Restoration of marriages… I’m announcing them like headlines. But at the end of it all, I’m counting coins to get money to pay the trotro mate to get home.

He plastered on a warm expression, raising one hand toward heaven while the other held the microphone. The clapping was still ongoing, people were standing, spirits high—but Amos wasn’t in the room anymore.

So Lord, if you see everyone else, do you see me too? Or me diɛɛ, I am just the messenger who delivers good news he can’t share in?

He turned back to the crowd, his voice rising with power again. “People of God, let’s celebrate with our brother: his testimony is coming quickly!”

The congregation cheered and clapped louder.

Amos smiled and raised his hands again.

Deep in his heart, however, one question echoed like thunder.

When will it be my turn?

***

In a modest back office, the pastor of Restoration Chapel, Reverend Mensah, handed Amos a chilled bottle of Alvaro and a small napkin-wrapped plate—two sausage rolls and a biscuit. The service was over, and as usual, Amos was meeting up with the head pastor to have a quick chat.

“Man of God,” Reverend Noble said warmly, “thank you for blessing us today. The word was rich, and the prophecy…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You shook the place. That young man’s mother hasn’t stopped crying since. You brought a word in season. God bless you richly.”

Amos managed a small smile, sitting across from him. “Glory to God, sir. I’m just a vessel of the Most High.”

Reverend Mensah leaned back in his chair and reached into a drawer, pulling out an envelope. “It’s not much, but it’s a token from us. May the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob multiply it and blow your mind.”

Amos accepted it with both hands, nodded his thanks, and placed it on the armrest of his chair. The weight of the envelope already told him what he didn’t want to know; it was barely enough to help him throughout the week.

He hesitated for a second, then decided to speak.

“Reverend, can I be honest with you for a minute?”

Reverend Mensah looked up from the drink he’d just opened. “Of course, my brother.”

Amos exhaled, then let out his feelings.

“Reverend, I’m struggling. Financially. Every week I go from church to church, praying, prophesying, fasting for people, and every single time, I’m going home with just enough for transport. And honestly, it’s getting a bit frustrating. I mean, I’ve obeyed God. I’ve stayed pure. I’m waiting on Him. But it feels like I’m pouring from an empty cup, and there’s… there’s no word from Him on my situation. Honestly, it’s really frustrating, and I… I dunno what again to do.”

Reverend Noble’s face softened. He leaned forward, hands clasped as he stared the young prophet in the face. “Hmm. Amos, I hear you. I can imagine what you’re going through. I won’t pretend I don’t know how frustrating it can be, it really can. Especially with the standard of living these days, it’s really tough. Especially when you’re seeking the Lord, and He seems to be ignoring you. But sometimes, these dry seasons… they’re either because God is working on something deep in us, or He’s fighting battles on our behalf that we can’t even see.”

He paused a bit before continuing. “David was anointed to become king of Israel, but he still ran from cave to cave before he wore the crown. Joseph dreamed of rulership, but he ended up in a prison before that happened. My brother, I get your frustration, but what I can tell you is, just hold on. I believe God will reward your labour—and when He does, it will be so magnificent, you’ll forget these days of struggle like a bad dream. Trust me, I’ve seen Him do it before, and there’s no way He won’t do it for you.”

Amos nodded slowly, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Amen. Thank you, Rev.”

Reverend Noble smiled and reached over, patting his shoulder. “Be encouraged, my brother. Just keep being faithful. You carry something heavy, and you are using it to bless people as God ordained you to. He sees it. Just as you preached this morning, He is not unjust to forget your labour of love. Men may not reward it now—but God surely will.”

A few more moments of conversation, and Amos stood, shook the pastor’s hand, and stepped out into the open.

As he walked down the church steps, envelope in hand, his smile slowly faded.

He had no idea why he had expected to hear anything different from this pastor friend of his. But this was the standard response whenever he decided to be open about his struggles.

And he was getting pretty sick of it.

“That’s all they know what to tell me,” he grumbled. “That’s all. They keep saying “wait,” “be faithful,” “God will do it.” But my rent doesn’t wait. My stomach doesn’t wait. Trotro fares don’t wait. And I… I’m tired of waiting.”

He gripped the envelope tightly.

“I need my breakthrough now, not after I’ve wasted away praying for others while watching my own life shrink.”

***

“Give me one mosquito coil pack. The green one.”

The shop attendant, a bored-looking teenager, glanced at the green pack of mosquito coils Amos was pointing at, walked over leisurely to pick it and handed it over, taking his ten and five cedi notes without a word.

Amos stuffed the coil into the side pocket of his Bible pouch and walked off, dragging his feet a little.

He paused next to a parked car, a sleek black Toyota Camry with tinted windows, and leaned slightly against it, not caring who it belonged to.

He sighed heavily. “God, this is embarrassing.”

The vent session was far from over for him.

“I’m a whole prophet, buying mosquito coil. Coils! Not even mosquito spray. Man is so broke, I can’t even buy Raid. Is this how Elisha lived? Is this what double portion looks like? If this is the portion, then maybe I need a refund.”

***

From the car, behind the tinted glass, a gentleman in his late thirties was sat in the driver’s seat. He was staring at his phone, trying hard, and failing, not to worry.

A debt and an influential business supplier’s threat to walk away was what had him shook. Not to mention the imminent threat from home. He might have done his best to suppress that, but deep down, he knew the consequences of a potential fallout would be devastating, to say the least.

His world was wobbling, and he didn’t know which prayer would fix it.

He sighed, about to start the car when he heard a voice outside, muffled, frustrated and laced with spiritual vocabulary.

Words like “prophet,” “gift,” “waiting too long,” and “God, are you even listening?”

Aaron frowned, then rolled down his window just enough to hear better.

“…Can see everyone’s destiny but can’t even afford insecticide,” the voice of a young man appeared to be muttering.

Aaron’s eyebrows lifted, his head nodding with interest as he listened.

With what he could hear, this sounded like a young pastor pissed with his current standard of living.

And as he continued to listen, a little idea popped up in his brain.

A little idea that could probably help him with the threat from home…

***

“Excuse me, boss!”

Amos had just begun to walk away, done with his little tirade, when he heard that voice call him. He turned around slowly, a little startled.

A gentleman in a Lacoste shirt and jeans jogged up to him. It appeared as though he had stepped out of the car Amos had leaned against.

“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry for leaning on your car,” Amos started apologetically.

The gentleman shook his head. “No, no, no, don’t worry, that’s not what I’m coming up to you for. I just wanted to confirm something. Are you a prophet?”

Amos straightened slightly. “Umm, yes. Why do you ask?”

The gentleman clapped once, as though something divine had just been confirmed. “Ah! I knew it. I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I overheard you just now, and… And once I heard that you were a man of God, I knew things were aligned for us to meet. I was sitting in the car just praying for someone like you to cross my path.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a glossy business card. “Aaron Essel is my name. I run a business in local snack production. The truth is, I’ve been looking for someone… spiritually sharp. Someone who can help me with something sensitive.”

Amos blinked. “Oh. Okay…”

Aaron placed the card in his hand firmly. “Come to my office tomorrow. Let’s talk. I know this meeting is not random. It’s a divine setup. And of course, I’m ready to give you what is due you after it all.”

At the sound of that, Amos’ fingers curled around the card like it was a gold coin. “I’ll be there,” he responded quickly, the earlier grumbling replaced by eagerness.

Aaron nodded. “Good. Tomorrow at 10 a.m. The address is on the back.”

Amos smiled wide for the first time that day. “Thank you. Thank you, sir.”

As he turned and walked away from Aaron, his thoughts exploded in grateful relief.

“Finally ooo, finally. Thank goodness God has heard me. After all this murmuring that I need a breakthrough, here it is. Baba, I thank You ooo!”

He looked up at the sky with a smirk. “That’s how it should be, Father. You give me the gift—I use it. People bless me. Simple.”

He laughed softly to himself as he disappeared down the street, praising God and already imagining suits, air-conditioned offices, and envelopes with a lot of weight to them.

There’s definitely something shady about this Aaron guy. I don’t think this is a blessing at all…