It was Monday morning.

Amos had just gotten out of the trotro he took his early journey in, and stood in front of the tall glass building the address on Aaron’s card had led him to.

Phidles Towers. Home to a host of big businesses. Including Aaron’s business on the ground floor: Tete Munchies, a company focused on the production of local snacks such as nkate-cake and meat pies.

He smiled and nodded. He had taken his time getting dressed that morning: a well-ironed shirt, nicely polished shoes, and a spritz of cologne he’d been saving for a special occasion. He had spared no expense to look as good as could be; making a good impression was extremely important.

This is it, he thought to himself, inhaling deeply. The season of struggle is over. Time to walk into the overflow!

He proudly stepped into the cool, air-conditioned lobby and approached the receptionist’s desk.

“Good morning. I’m here to see Mr. Aaron Essel of Tete Munchies, please.”

The receptionist, a neatly dressed young lady with braided hair and glasses, glanced at her screen, then smiled. “Good morning, sir. You must be Prophet Amos?”

He nodded, pleased at the title.

“Please have a seat. He’ll call for you shortly.”

Amos sat, legs crossed, back straight, heart humming with anticipation.

This was it. God was finally showing up and speeding things up for him.

He leaned against the seat after a while, happily humming Nathaniel Bassey’s ‘See What The Lord Has Done’ as he continued to allow his mind to run wild on all the things he would do once the breakthrough was complete.

Ten minutes later, the receptionist gestured at him. “You can go in now, sir. His office is the last door on the right.”

Amos rose quickly, adjusted his collar, and nodded his thanks at her before making his way down the short hallway. He arrived at the door and knocked gently before stepping in.

The office was quite spacious, with glass walls, a mahogany desk, a tall bookshelf, and Aaron seated behind it, dressed in a navy-blue kaftan.

He immediately rose to shake Amos’ hand. “Man of God. You came. Welcome.”

“Thank you, sir,” Amos replied, taking the seat offered to him.

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding this place,” Aaron added as they took their seats.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Amos responded. “It’s not too far from the First Boutique bus stop. Just had to take the right trotros to get here.”

“Good, good. That’s good to hear.”

With that, Aaron sat back, saying nothing else for a moment. He just studied Amos with a quiet, assessing gaze.

Then he leaned back in his chair, just before a confused Amos was about to ask the reason for that gaze.

“Hmmm, Man of God, believe me, I’m really glad we met yesterday. I believe God orchestrated our encounter. Because the issue I’m dealing with… it’s delicate. And I really need some divine intervention, so to speak.”

Amos leaned forward slightly, attentive. “Alright, sir. Talk to me, I’m all ears.”

Aaron sighed, then steepled his hands as he began.

“So, it’s about my wife. Her name is Phyllis, and we’ve been married for six years. At first, everything was smooth. We didn’t have any issues, she was humble and submissive… everything was all good. But Prophet, lately… she has changed. She’s always inviting outsiders into our marriage: her friends, her relatives… even some of these relatives never showed up at our wedding, yet they get all the gist. Everything that happens in our home ends up in someone else’s ear.”

He paused, then said more quietly, “Now she’s threatening to leave. She says that I’m controlling, manipulative, abusive… all sorts of funny things. But Prophet, see, that’s never the truth. I provide for her. I do a lot of good things for her. I’ve never raised a hand against her; I was brought up never to do that. I just don’t like strangers being dragged into our home like it’s a community forum.”

Amos frowned, unsure of where this was going. Surely this was more suited for a marriage counsellor with years of experience than him, a young man who was yet to even nab a girlfriend.

Aaron leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Now, this is where you come in, Prophet.”

“Umm, come in how?” Amos asked carefully.

Aaron looked him square in the eye.

“I want you to help me give her some… perspective. Speak to her. Or better yet—prophesy to her. Say something from the Lord. Remind her that if she continues on this path of always trying to drag people into our marriage and talking of leaving me, she’ll be missing the mark as far as  God’s will is concerned. Nothing relating to death, of course,” he added quickly, “just… a reminder of the spiritual consequences of leaving her marital. Something serious enough to shake her into compliance.”

Amos blinked, mouth slightly ajar.

Now this was nowhere near what he had imagined. Prayers about Tete Munchies and overcoming unseen forces against it were more along his line of thought, but… to use his gift and position to manipulate a woman into staying in a marriage?! Never would he have imagined that.

“Umm, sir… I-I… I don’t understand. You want me to… to fabricate a prophecy?”

“Oh, no, no, I wouldn’t call it that,” Aaron replied, smiling faintly. “Call it a divine reinforcement. After all, the Bible says that God hates divorce, right? And see, the thing is, she respects prophets like you so much. Reveres every word from your mouths, in fact. If she hears it from you, she’ll listen.”

This attempt to rename it was hardly convincing. This was a call to fabricate a prophecy.

And this was not what he came there for.

Amos straightened in his seat and shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not what my gift is for. I don’t manipulate people in the name of God. Whatever I tell them is what the Lord has told me. Not what someone wants me to say. I’m sorry, but… I-I can’t do this. This is not right, and I can’t do it. I can’t put words in God’s mouth.”

There was a silence between them for a moment.

Tense. Still.

Then Aaron, still smiling, reached for his phone. “Fair enough. I appreciate your honesty.” He unlocked it with a thumbprint. “Now, just give me a moment and let me do something quick.”

Amos frowned as he watched Aaron, wondering what the man was up to. Whatever it was, he didn’t want any part of it.

To think that this was what he considered a breakthrough? What a disappointment!

The nerve of this man to actually believe that he can buy a prophecy! Ahhh! Such a blatant show of disrespect to the office of the prophet! I should walk out of here right now–

His angry internal rant was cut short as his phone buzzed.

Puzzled, he picked it up looked at the screen.

His breath caught.

It was a Mobile Money notification.

And the amount now sitting in his Mobile Money wallet… nothing short of mind-blowing.

Thanks to Aaron.

He looked up slowly.

Aaron didn’t say a word. Just met his gaze calmly, knowingly.

Ummm, maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, actually…

Amos cleared his throat. “Umm… so you said… you want some divine reinforcement for her?”

Aaron nodded. “Yes. Divine reinforcement. Something to bring her back to her senses.”

Amos leaned back, forcing a thoughtful look. “I’ll… I’ll see what I can do about it.”

Aaron chuckled. “Of course you will, Prophet. Of course you will. Now, here’s the deal. She always goes to church on Wednesday evenings, and I can get our pastor to bring you around for one evening of prayer and prophecy…”

***

The sliding doors of the office building parted with a hush, and Amos stepped out into the hot morning sun, the rhythm of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he continued to make sense of what had just happened.

He paused on the pavement and pulled out his phone again to look at the amount sitting in his Mobile Money account.

GH₵28,000.

He blinked.

The number hadn’t changed. It was still there.

Real. In his account. Just like that.

He had never, in all his twenty-eight years of living on earth, seen that much amount of money in an account belonging to him. At best, the highest he had ever kept in an account was GHc5,000, and even then, three-quarters of that were to be paid as school and hostel fees. So this was big. Really big.

He exhaled sharply, a sound that was half laughter and half disbelief. “Eii, Father… finally. I’ve gotten some major, life-changing money. A solid 28K! Finally.”

He walked on, phone still in hand, his eyes fixed on the screen as he continued to drink it in.

His prayer had been answered! All those times he had checked out his MoMo account and lamented how dry it was… now a thing of the past! He could actually begin to afford to live a decent life now!

Deep beneath the elation, however, a small, sharp voice had begun to rise. Quiet, but firm.

This is not right. This is not what you were called for, Amos. This is a perversion of the gift you’ve been given. This is wrong!

Amos stopped, and sighed at the pang those words delivered. He then shook his head quickly, as if to physically toss the thought away.

“No, no-no-no,” he muttered under his breath. “Look, the word of God says that marriage is sacred, and that the Lord hates divorce. So really, whatever I’m going to say to her will just help her stay and preserve the union. That’s biblical.”

He crossed the street, barely noticing the taxi that honked angrily at him and threw a nasty insult at him. His eyes were still on the digits glowing on his phone screen.

Amos! This is manipulation, and you know it! You’re twisting God’s voice to serve man’s agenda.

“Oh, please,” Amos whispered back to the voice of conviction, gritting his teeth. “And did she consult God when she started inviting outsiders into her marriage? When she threatened to leave the husband of her youth? Please, spare me that!”

He walked faster now, almost stomping along, forcing the justification into his mind and heart.

“I’m just helping God help them. Maybe she needs to hear a strong word to wake up. Maybe this is how the Lord is using me to keep a family together.”

No, you’re not speaking for God, Amos. You’re speaking for your stomach.

That one cut deep.

He slowed his pace for a moment. Looked down. Swallowed.

He couldn’t lie, that word hit him in the gut. It was right. He was mainly doing this for his belly. Maybe it would be best if he just walked back and returned the money after all…

But then he remembered again: GH₵28,000.

Crazy money for a guy like him who barely handled even 4-figure amounts.

His mind quickly skimmed through the kind of things he could use that money for: rent for six months. New clothes. A laptop. Maybe even something for social media branding—graphics, videos, prophetic livestreams…

He smiled to himself. Yeah, this money definitely wasn’t worth throwing away for this faux conviction.

“Phyllis,” he muttered under his breath, testing the name. “Hmm. Phyllis. The way Mr. Aaron talks about her, she’ll listen. She won’t even argue when she hears it’s from the Lord, she’ll obey straight away.”

This is not what Elohim anointed you for, young man. He didn’t make you a vessel of honour for this. Don’t do it. You’ll regret it if you do…

His conscience was doing hard work getting through to him, but in that moment, Amos chose the path of resistance and stuck religiously to it. He shook his head and squared his shoulders.

“Sometimes,” he murmured, “the vessel has to make executive decisions for itself. Period.”

And with that, he walked on, already forming the sentence that would begin the prophecy:

“Phyllis! O daughter of Zion, the Lord is telling me that… you are standing at the edge of a dangerous cliff…”

Sigh, Amos, this is a terrible route you’re taking. An extremely terrible route…