“Hey! Mantelebroska! Out! Out! Out! Out of her, you foul spirit of the underworld! I rebuke you in the name of the Lord Jesus! Loose your hold over her!”

This Wednesday evening midweek service at the small and humble Pentecostal church was something else. The atmosphere was crackling with tension and fire, as a deliverance was taking place right before the eyes of the gathering.

A woman wailed on the floor, thrashing about, her voice thick with torment. Amos, dressed in clerical attire, stood over her, sweat running down his forehead as he rebuked the spirit that bound her.

The Lord had shown him that her desire to get married was being hampered by a ‘spirit husband’ who was driving away all possible suitors. She had confirmed this, stating that every guy who showed interest in settling down with her ended up ghosting her.

“You spirit husband,” he barked, voice rising with each syllable, “I decree and declare, your time is up! Loose her and let her go, in the name of Jesus! Loose her! Loose her! Loose her!”

The church roared with prayer. Hands were lifted, and tongues were spoken, everyone doing their bit to defeat this evil spirit.

The woman let out a bloodcurdling scream and began to roll violently. A few ushers rushed to hold her, but Amos waved them off.

“No, no, no! Let her roll! The fire of God is working! It’s working, it’s working, it’s working!”

He paced, gesturing with force, his voice like a hammer. “People of God, lift your voice and pray! This one must be free tonight! We cast out this spirit husband in the name of Jesus! Pray! Pray! Pray!”

The congregation roared louder, fists clenched, faces taut with spiritual urgency.

The lady continued to scream and roll around, with Amos keeping watch over her to ensure she didn’t get injured. He continued to rebuke the spirit hounding her, commanding it to let her go.

Then, suddenly, the woman stopped.

Her body fell limp on the floor, chest heaving as if she had run a race.

Amos knelt beside her, nodded as he felt a divine confirmation that the spirit had been expelled, then placed his hand on her forehead, speaking in softer tones now.

“You are free,” he whispered, then raised his voice. “She is delivered! She is free, in Jesus’ name!”

The congregation broke into cheers and claps as he helped the woman to her feet, who looked around in a daze and then collapsed into grateful sobs. An usher covered her with a cloth and led her to a seat.

Amos lifted his hands, soaking in the adoration and encouraging the echo of praise. “People of God, let’s bless the name of our Lord! He is worthy to be praised!”

While the shouts of joy continued, deep within Amos, a voice stirred.

How can you be wrong with God if He still uses you like this? See? You still carry power. You still hear in the Spirit. Surely, you’re not that far gone…

Inwardly, he nodded, agreeing with the voice. Outwardly, he smiled at the crowd, raised his left hand, and shouted one final declaration. “The devil is a liar! Amen?”

“Amen!” the people roared back.

He stood tall as he returned to the podium and paced it, giving the image of a powerful man of God.

Inside though, his soul was squirming and wrestling with itself. He had not been the same since Noble’s phone call, and before this service, wondered if he would be able to prophesy or hear from God as well as he did back then.

This evening was giving him the answer he wanted.

Yes. He could still hear from heaven and prophesy accurately.

So as he stood before the flock, taking in the cheers and delight, he was inwardly holding tightly to the evidence of his spiritual gifts, desperate to believe it meant he was still right with God.

Even if deep down… he wasn’t so sure.

***

The service had come to a successful end, with everyone, from Pastor Sowah to the congregants, blessing Amos for such a powerful ministration. As usual, he humbly directed all glory to God.

As he sat quietly in the backseat of the Uber, his clerical collar was slightly loosened, and he nodded as the driver had gospel music playing softly. Amos stared out the window, watching Accra’s evening lights blur past.

“God still used me,” he whispered to himself, a cloud of relief hovering over him as the memories of what transpired a few hours ago came to mind.

The memory of the woman collapsing in freedom. The tears. The shouts. The awe in the eyes of the congregation.

“I still carry power. I still hear Him. Surely, if I were that far gone, the anointing would’ve dried up. Right?”

He adjusted in his seat, trying to make peace with the knot forming in his chest with the justification he had just thought of. But that peace was evasive.

Then, suddenly, it came—sharp and uninvited.

A flashback.

It was four years ago, in the Ohr Seminary lecture hall…

The hall was packed to capacity, with every student’s attention fixated on the man of God before them, paying rapt attention to every word spoken.

One of them, Amos, a passionate lover of God, was in his seat, wide-eyed with awe and admiration. He had his notebook open, taking notes drinking in every word.

At the front of the room stood Prophet Herbert Mkandawire, the legendary Zambian revivalist with a voice like thunder and eyes that seemed to see right into one’s soul. He was exhorting them on the importance of living pleasing lives to God while in ministry.

“Now hear me. Never,” Prophet Herbert said, pacing slowly, “and I repeat, never assume that because the anointing still flows through you, that heaven is clapping for your life. The worst mistake you can ever make is to live a life of sin and assume that because your ministry is still flourishing, you have no problem. The worst mistake, I tell you.

“Let’s look at Romans 11:29. It says, ‘For the gifts and the calling of God are without repentance.’ What does that mean? That means He won’t take it back, even when you go astray. That’s not license to sin, it’s a call to fear. A call to humility.”

The room was silent. Amos felt a chill run down his spine at the gravity of those words.

Herbert leaned on the lectern, his voice low and grave as he gazed at the new generation of ministers before him. “There are men who cast out devils on Sunday and sleep with strange women by Wednesday. Men who prophesy in crusades but are spiritually rotting inside. They think they’re fine—because God still moves. But heaven weeps. And eventually, until they repent, their fall is great. Don’t be that man. Live a life of purity and holiness as a servant of Elohim. Integrity must be the principle you live by. Remember that the God we serve cannot be mocked. You can never, ever expect to live contrary to God’s word and believe that He will applaud you because you’re doing His work. Never. What you sow, you will reap. Sow to the flesh, and you will reap nothing but destruction and death…”

Amos blinked, coming back to the present.

A chill crawled down his spine like a cold hand brushing against his skin. He rubbed his arms, suddenly feeling exposed.

He shifted in his seat and exhaled harshly, shaking his head.

“That was years ago,” he muttered to himself. “Things are different now. Life is different.”

That might be true, but Jehovah isn’t different. He’s the same God of back then.

His conscience could not have had an easier claim to rebut. He knew all too well that changes in life hardly eroded the immutability of God’s laws.

His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out his phone to scroll through investment options again, as if numbers and returns could drown out conviction.

But the words wouldn’t leave.

… men who prophesy in crusades but are spiritually rotting inside… what you sow, you will reap…

And even as he forced a smile, pretending he was still in control, the insecurity inside him was growing stronger and stronger.

***

Phyllis stood at the arrival section of Kotoka International Airport, arms folded tightly against her chest, anxiety curling in her stomach like a serpent. The usual rush of activity, ranging from announcements blaring to families embracing and porters pushing carts, was happening all around her. The only thing she could focus on, though, was the pounding of her heart and the ache building in her throat.

She hadn’t told Aaron it was Zack she had come to meet at the airport. There was no way she could.

Not when he had once called Zack “a reckless, ungodly brute who would burn down a church just to prove a point.” He was highly unimpressed by Zack’s scorn for religion, as well as his ability to lose his cool on a dime. To him, Zack might have been Phyllis’ brother, but he was a terrible influence Phyllis was better off doing without.

So there was no way Aaron could know she had come to pick him up.

Truthfully, she would have avoided picking him up altogether, just to ensure she had no chance of being labelled as rebellious or disrespectful. But she hadn’t forgotten Zack’s words the last time they had spoken.

Whenever he spoke like that, it was best not to shut him out or pretend he didn’t exist. Unless you wanted an explosive meeting with him.

So here she was, fidgeting with the strap of her handbag and consciously keeping her fingers away from her mouth. Biting her nails would be too obvious that all was not well.

She forced herself to appear composed, even though the knot in her stomach tightened with every second.

Then she saw him.

Zack.

Emerging from the arrivals gate, tall and broad-shouldered, his beard a little fuller than before, his gait as unapologetic as ever. His eyes scanned the crowd with the intensity of a soldier back from war, and when they landed on her, they didn’t soften.

He was pushing his luggage like it owed him money, his strong jaw clenched and his entire demeanor radiating storm clouds.

Phyllis’s breath caught in her throat.

That face.

She had grown up with it.

That was the facial expression he always had that spelled trouble for anyone who so much as hinted at disrespecting his little sister. A facial expression that didn’t mind torching her for allowing herself to be disrespected or bullied, per his standards. A facial expression that was reserved for pastors, bullies and anyone else he deeply disliked, as well as anyone that pissed him off.

Including her.

And now, it was here again.

And she knew.

Things were about to get harder.

And far more dangerous.

Yep, Zack is definitely going to shake things up. As for Amos, he really is fighting a losing battle against God and his mind…