I could not tell the number God dialled to call these men of God and I am in no hurry to shove my sinful self to hell by bearing false witness. The emergence of men of God in to the Ghanaian society has not been a subject of utmost subtlety but for the obvious fear of being branded an anti- Christ of a sort, voices have been unwillingly shut to avoid any untoward aftermath.
The intrinsic motive behind fellowshipping these days in a Christian outfit stands to be questioned at all angles. How we got to this point in our lives I cannot begin to fathom because it is as if we woke up one day and it was this point in our lives.
I grew up in a home where attending church was as mandatory as the “smoking cause’s lung cancer” messages spread on a cigarette pack. Who could even ignore the ever chiming siren of the Presbyterian Church which though was calm was riveting enough to bring one’s marrows to full glee?
And one could tell just by the way the congregation related that there is love and solidarity. Unfortunately I cannot say that for the churches that are roaming in the streets of the country. Where there is a colossal gap between the rich and the poor due to the holier than thou nature of our so called pastors.
It is sorrowfully pathetic how these men of God have thrived their way into the hearts of people feeding them with the words they want to hear and exercising their “survival techniques” on them by coaxing them to offer the meager cedi they have as a seal to a divine deal.
A listen to their interpretation of the Bible leaves your faith shattered beyond any possible repair and they have a cluster of appellations they did nothing to earn. Talk of the doctorate, bishop, prophets and a lot more that are not even worth mentioning.
Yes Jesus Christ was a man who performed many miracles so it is only right for his vessels to do same after all the apple do not fall far from the tree. But my discomfort is with the consistency of these miracles.
Most times I am left with no option than to believe the miracles are happening because there is camera capturing every minute of the service to be sold to the world later to attract members. In churches today, the barren gets pregnant every day; the cripple walks every day; the blind sees every day; and the many would only bump into wealth when they travel abroad.
Maybe, just maybe if the selling of anointing oil that had only suffered in the ride of a tetanus infested trotro but purported to be coming from Israel could stop. Maybe if ordinary handkerchiefs are sold at a less shocking price; maybe if soliciting for funds for church infrastructure would not be made to look like a car auction then that young guy who spends his Sundays at “omu tuo” joint would have a change of mind.
Then the drivers who keep bad mouthing churches would have a change of perception. And just maybe if these men of God could stop focusing their attention on ridiculous apparels and concentrate on delivering the gospel, then fellowshipping would be restored to its former glory.
Most Ghanaians are perishing and a bid to make situations lighter; they inadvertently land their gullible selves in worse situations all in the name of miracles.
Being a judge is as hard an occupation as watching an ‘I have given up on life’ man sitting in a livid sun breaking stones; even though the task is sometimes made light with tubers of yam, couple of goats and fat currencies in brown envelopes.
One must attest to the one bare fact that the occupation is a rather herculean one. So who am I to point my already stained finger at anyone? Judging is bad news irrespective of how best we deem it a tool to bring justice to the table.
Howbeit most people have been called to the bar in a disguised way as we tend to judge people obliviously. I am not judging, I am just saying…