The Tuesday morning light filtered into the modest chamber-and-hall apartment, bouncing off the polished tiles and glowing up the rooms within.

Amos sat cross-legged on the rug in front of his small coffee table, a cheap laptop before him, humming quietly as he clicked through multiple browser tabs.

“Best short-term investments in Ghana,” one tab read.

“Fixed deposit vs Treasury bill,” another.

And yet another: “Treasury bill interest rate 2025 Ghana.”

He scratched his head with a pencil as he did his research, his lips curled in satisfaction.

The level of euphoria in his heart that morning was off the charts, and it was all down to the Mobile Money notification from the night before.

GH₵40,000.00 from Aaron.

When the notification popped up at about 11 pm, he had stared at it in total disbelief. He had woken up the next morning, half-expecting it to be a nice dream that appeared too well. Picking up the phone and checking the notification, however, had proven otherwise.

It hadn’t been a dream.

It was real.

The Mobile Money account of Amos Manford, that barely saw four-figure amounts at a time, now held a solid five-figure amount sitting pretty.

“Herh, chale! Look at me now ooo!” he whispered gleefully, slapping his thigh and grinning. “Look at your son! Look at me now.”

He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, daydreaming about the moment he’d walk into a bank to open an investment account. He could already hear the cashier calling him “Boss” with that polished tone reserved for people with serious money. Back then, the thought of investment would’ve been a ridiculous concept to him; everyday was a rainy day, so saving was out of the equation.

Now here he was, on the way to gaining the respect and admiration he deserved as a servant of the Most High God.

“Just as it ought to be,” he murmured to himself. “No more wallowing in struggle and want. This is my time of overflow!”

He opened a new tab, eyes narrowing in focus as he prepared to compare rates.

Then his phone rang.

The name flashed across the screen: Rev. Noble Osiahene – Restoration Chapel.

Amos blinked. “Huh?”

He stared at the phone for a moment. His brows furrowed. What could Reverend Noble want with him?

He hesitated for a second, then shook his head and slapped himself on the forehead lightly.

“What the heck is wrong with me?” he scolded himself. “There’s no need to be worried about anything. Maybe he wants me to minister at his church or something.”

He then cleared his throat and swiped the green button.

“Hello, Reverend. Blessings,” he greeted, sitting up straight. “Hope all is well with you.”

“Amos,” the older man on the other end of the line began, voice slow, careful. “How are you doing, my brother?”

“I’m fine, Rev… by God’s grace,” Amos replied, though a knot had already formed in his stomach. The graveness in Reverend Noble’s voice was a bit… unsettling. He leaned forward, laptop forgotten. “Umm, you sound a bit serious. Is everything alright? Has something happened?”

A pause. Then came the reply, heavy and sober.

“No… nothing physical has happened. The family is doing fine, thanks be to God. But… something was shown to me in the spirit last night, and it troubled me deeply. That’s why I’m calling.”

Amos’s heart dropped. “Oh… and uh, it has to do with me?”

“Yes,” Reverend Noble replied simply.

Amos felt his stomach churn. Deep down, he knew whatever Noble was about to say had to do with his new path.

“So, I saw you, Amos,” Noble continued. “In a vision. You were standing at a crossroads… and you were unsure of which road to choose. Then, I saw that you had chosen a path lined with gold. But behind that gold, there was darkness… deep, thick darkness. And the Lord said to me, ‘My son has traded his calling for silver, and the end of it will be ruin if he does not turn back now.’”

Amos said nothing. His throat was dry.

“You have a great calling on your life, Amos,” Reverend Noble pressed on, his voice almost cracking. “I’ve known it since the first time I heard you minister. Heaven has taken note of you. Our Lord and Master has great plans for you. But my brother, you cannot walk this path and expect God to stay silent.”

There was a tremble now. Noble was nearly weeping.

“Please, my brother… I know things are tough right now. I know you’ve been struggling. I know it all. It’s tough, especially with how the standard of living has risen so much. But please, I’m on my knees right now. Please don’t let the devil ruin your destiny with temporary pleasure. I don’t what it is you might have done or are doing or planning to do, but please, drop it. Return to God. Clean your hands. His blessings come with no sorrow. What He gives, He sustains. If you just hold on a little longer, you’ll see the hand of God in a way you never would have fathomed. Please. You don’t need to accept the enemy’s offer to taste goodness. It’s nothing but fool’s good, my brother! That’s all it is!”

Silence again.

“Amos? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Amos replied softly, barely above a whisper.

“Please, Amos. I’m not here to judge you or condemn you. Far from that. I’m just telling you what the Lord is saying. Please, this warning is an act of mercy from Him, so please, my brother, hear Him. Pray. Fast. Ask the Lord to show you mercy. There’s still time. I know you’re going through it, but trust me, God won’t leave you in the dumps just like that. Wherever He sends a person, He makes provision available. He’ll do it at the right time, and you sef, you’ll be amazed at how He’ll do it. Please, hear what the Lord is saying. I beg you.”

“…Okay,” Amos replied after a long silence.

“Thank you, Prophet. May the Lord be with you.”

The call ended.

For a moment, Amos sat frozen, phone still in his hand.

Then he flung it across the room.

“Oh, come on! What is this? Ehh? What is this?” he shouted, springing to his feet and pacing the small apartment angrily. “So as for me, God just wants me to suffer, eh? Me diɛɛ, my portion in life is to struggle? To be eating gari and sardine forever, while others enjoy? After all I’ve done for Him?”

He kicked a plastic bowl near the fridge. It bounced noisily across the floor.

“This isn’t fair! This is not fair!” he raged on. “When I was on the right path, doing everything I ought to do, God was silent! When I was staying true to the cause, doing the work as He told me to, there was no word from Him! If it wasn’t about revealing something about somebody, I’ll hear nothing. Every blessed day, I’m crying out to Him for help. No answer. Silence. Nothing. Now that I’ve found a way for myself, He suddenly knows how to deliver messages and warnings!”

He was a flaming ball of rage at that moment as he continued to walk around, the idea of investments forgotten for now.

“Where were You when I cried out to You for help, God? Huh? When I needed a word from You, You ignored me! Watched on while I struggled, collecting tiny envelopes and living hand-to-mouth. Suddenly when I’m starting to do well for myself, You’ve suddenly shown up, coming to give me warnings about punishment and destruction! I won’t stop. I won’t! This—this life—this is better than where I was! I deserve this! After all the faithfulness and diligence I’ve put into being a prophet, I deserve this! All those years of studying at Ohr Seminary, learning under Prophets Obu and Mkandawire… all that struggle has to be worth it! Yes, I’m blessing people, but I need to be blessed too! This thing where I do all the pouring and I don’t get any pouring into is not fair! So no! I won’t stop! I deserve this comfort! I deserve it!”

His rant over, he looked around as his chest rose and fell. The apartment was quiet again, save for his heavy breathing and the soft hum of the fridge.

He wiped his face and sat back down slowly.

Breathing in and out gently.

As convicted as he felt by that warning, he just did not want to heed it. He had endured this suffering for too long, and it didn’t feel like God would change his situation any time soon. With a taste of this comfy lifestyle, there was no way he wanted to return to the old days of struggle. Absolutely no way.

But… he knew resisting God wasn’t the wisest thing to do. The clay could never fight its potter and win. Never.

It was either surrender…

… or destruction.

Amos placed his head in his hands.

Oh, what to do, what to do, what to do…

Amos, you know what to do. Do it. This is the wrong path you’re on, and the money ain’t worth it…