Skip to main content

Battle of the Godless – Ch. 9 | KT OLLA

WHEN Micah brought his mother’s idol for his son to own, the latter was simply thrown in the middle. He didn’t feel quite won over to meddle in the older folk’s practices.

Micah could read the doubt and question in Dinuel’s eyes. Those crystal eyes weren’t capable of hiding anything. They simply revealed his thoughts like the sun unveils the day.

But the middle-aged man wasn’t ready to give up his try. So he leaned towards his boy where they sat together in his bed chamber. And he pestered on and on till he could get a positive response.

‘My dear son,’ he called, looking in his gentle eyes. ‘Who else can lead the family to God if not you? Who else can help us find God through this?’ he queried.

Dinuel was hastening to a defense just then. But Micah picked up anew.

‘You know it yourself, son. You know my good heart is nothing beside yours. If the land calls me good today, it’s all because I have goodness as a child—you know that yourself!

‘You’re the one who welcomes strangers into this house. But everyone thinks it is Micah who has the big heart.

‘You’re the one who feeds the poor and the needy; but everyone think it is done at my command. Oh Dinuel, you and I know who the good man is!

‘Tell me, who else but you can lead our house to God?’

Dinuel let out a small sigh where he sat on his father’s bed. But Micah wasn’t done. He went on imploring.

‘You’re aware, son, how much your father has been seeking to know God. How much I’ve been searching to find Him.

‘But you see, you’re ten times worthy to seek God’s face than your father is! And if because of you the God of Israel will draw near to my house, then it is well pleasing to me!’

Now he capped his hands over Dinuel’s.

‘So please son, lead us to the God our nation once knew! Be my priest and lead our house to find God!’

And then he turned to the idol lying on the bed, carried it reverently and placed it in the hands of his son.

He whispered. ‘Please!’

Now Dinuel could no longer refuse his father. All of Micah’s words were like a tangled web. They were a netted trap so tacky he couldn’t get himself out.

So, reluctantly the young man became a household priest for his father’s idol.

No, his grandmother’s wooden god handed down.

◙ ◙ ◙

As dusk and dawn rolled into weeks like the tides of sea move, Dinuel became known in that hill country with his new role.

But that robe of responsibility, he never wore.

Micah made a priestly ephod for his son, dexterously sown in the manner Aaron the priest of God wore his own to serve beside Moses.

He made the lad to take on that priestly robe when he appointed him as priest of his family.

And the father became like son to his little priest, in an effort to know the mysteries shown the kid.

But Dinuel never wore the mantle of the office. The young man clearly wore that ephod his father made him. But no, he never wore the responsibility.

For indeed to the young goodly chap, the ephod his father made him was like a daunting burden over his shoulders. 

That robe of office meant more than a graceful piece anyone could covet or even afford to own. Dinuel saw that that priestly title costed much more.

And he couldn’t bear to wear that name.

Especially when he couldn’t live up to it.

And so, as days dragged their feet into weeks, and weeks into many weeks, Micah’s son began to hunger also.

He began to seek with a hungry appetite what his father sought.

Religion to the young man had been like his nature. He was born into a family praised for her moral standing.

The young chap didn’t need to make any effort to keep the Law of God. He was raised to always keep them.

So Dinuel had always felt he was born good and godly.

But now that he took on the priestly robe for his father and could not still find God in an idol, he began to weigh his so-called righteousness.

For it dawned on him right then, that if he was indeed righteous he wouldn’t bow his knee to an idol, yet make his boast in the God of Abraham.

Right there he knew he didn’t know. And he hungered to know God.

But Dinuel wouldn’t know that his answer was coming.

And that answer arrived to earth disguised.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Sons of the Flaming Throne 2 – Ch. 9 | KT OLLA

ABISHUM wasn’t done speaking. So she picked up on the matter as things were bound to change. She spoke: ‘See, it was a bedroom cry for Aleph. But not until the day things were shoved in her face… ‘And that day she gave up on hoping! ‘Well, what Aleph thought was the reason why Beth couldn’t marry, was different from what it was with people. ‘She used to think it was because there was no man in her house to ask the daughter from. As is our customary practice in Israel.  ‘But when a drunken man shoved it in her face one night, it hurt her too much what people say. ‘“No one will marry your daughter, woman! Why will anyone do? When death hides in her bosom like it hid in yours. Or why did your husband die? ‘“Look, if you don’t know it – your family is cursed! You only have one child in a nation of plenty. ‘“God has prospered Israel with many children like the sea sand. But what do your family bear? Only one! ‘“So, who will want your cursed daughter for his son to love? You really don’t...

MUSTARD I – Ch. 7 | KT OLLA

NOW it had rained all morning this day. And the sun was finally tearing through clouds to take the day’s glory. It was a brief break for the villages of Ede’s farmlands. As they rested from taking turns in harvesting yams. The town’s harvest season of yam and cassava tubers were in the rains... So they worked double to get them stored in barns and sold in markets – to avoid early rot in the wet weather. Yes, the crops were sources of flours and flakes for main foods. And several kinds of yam – like the ewùrà, ebòlò and the white yam, were also prepared as meals. So, everyone was out going about their own business those rest days... The farmers would go for a routine check on their farm every morning. And return earlier than the time to gather for talks by evening. Every evening, the men would sit under the shade of trees, and play board games amid talk and drinks. They’d talk about everything. From the ruler to their people. And to their wives and children. The young Moro chose to go a...

MUSTARD II – Ch. 8 | KT OLLA

NOW Oji and Daleka went in to meet their brother as his wife hurried out of the house. ‘You meet me well, brothers,’ Morrow smiled as he dished his food. ‘Care to join for breakfast?’ ‘Oh we just had ours, big bro,’ Oji answered for them. ‘Thanks for the offer.’ ‘In that case, will you—?’ ‘Oh never mind,’ their youngest smiled, ‘we can sit and talk while you go on eating. We also have things to share with you.’ He looked to his partner for agreement and Oji nodded back. Yes, it was the culture there for someone to invite their guest to table when the latter meets them dining. Then, it was the right ethic for the guest to decline with thanks. Morrow glanced at them. ‘Oh really? Have your seat then. ‘And meanwhile, you did a lot helping last night – I appreciate it. Please tell your wives, too, we’re grateful.’ ‘Well, that is nothing,’ Oji waved a hand. ‘We are grateful that you returned! That you came home alive!’ Morrow looked at them and smiled. He had just finished dishing, so he smi...