JONAS

a story of a young man on the brink of a life changing decision that he has to take.

JONAS

My heart sank heavier in my chest as I watched her walk further away. The very thing that I had feared most has just revealed itself. Why me? I didn’t want this in the first place. It’s not like I stood by the altar every Sunday at church and begged God for this burden, anyway. I’ve let the best thing that has ever happened to me walk away because of something I obviously have no tangible control over. Well, this sucks to say the least. And Life in the township has never exactly looked at a preacher as a vision of success. Why can’t I just enjoy a normal life? I want to further my studies and become a mechanical engineer. I want to live in one of those upper class suburban houses I used to pass by everyday on my way to school. How I enjoyed when the taxi would weave in between the astute streets of Glenvista and Bassonia. I remember the pleasant feeling of hope that would soothe my mind as I longingly dreamt on. Knowing someday I might find myself as a proud owner of these south Johannesburg palaces- as a successful engineer. My wife would be pleased. My family proud and some even bitter as they took their first exhausting trip up my long, elegant driveway.

Why me though? I had so judiciously planned my life. Haven’t I been a good Christian? Or have I been so good as to become the chosen one? Now I have to suffer the consequences. I’ve seen so many pastors suffer. One in particular, struck a chord of fear in me that, until this day, leaves an echo of anxiety bellowing inside of me. Dozi’s my boy. And his pops has been like the father I never had for as long as I’ve knocked at their big oak wooded doors at playtime over the years. Dozi’s family was always the first to have things in our part of the neighbourhood. They were the first to own a car, a flat screen HD television, DSTV-complete with the full package accompanied by the very cooperative PVR set which allows you to record your favourite show while watching another, it even allows you to record it while you are away so you can catch an episode of your favourite series  when you return. In case you missed it while you were away. If they could afford it, they would buy it. I would spend a good deal of time at Dozi’s place, trying to inhale the feeling of success like second hand smoke. Eventually, they were even the first family in our street that could afford to move out the township and into the nearby suburb. Uncle Langa used to be one of my greatest inspirations. He had finally moved up the ranks and became the new MD at the big accounting firm he had been working for over 20 years-until he resigned two years ago. It all began not too long after the happenings at the purpose driven people’s conference we’d all attended together at an uptown church that year.  Things have never been the same since the night that Dozi secretly detests.

The church was filled to capacity as the preacher, together with the elders, stood intensely in front of the church. The worship music was blaring. All their eyes were shut. Some stood with their hands lifted high in the air. And others kept pacing franticly up and down the platform with their fists tightly clenched. All were praying while the better half of the congregation crooned on. I watched ponderously at the events taking place. After a while, the preacher began to motion with his right hand and the music humbly calmed down. He proceeded in doing something that I became all too familiar with during the course of my years. He began to prophesy. And in this prophecy he styled a man who had neglected his calling and sought after material things or something like that. Not a moment later a man jumped up; tears racing down his grief stricken face and fell to his knees before the prophet. “Uncle Langa? No way!” I remember thinking, in the utmost disbelief. And if the look on Dozi’s face was anything to go by then he obviously couldn’t believe it either. Though I suspect he must have known and furtively feared the realisation. I looked over at Sindi (My girlfriend at the time) and she looked no less surprised as we were.

What would happen now, we wondered. Needless to say, word got around that Uncle Langa quit his job. Assets were being sold, including cars and furniture and before you know it, the fancy house suffered the same fate. Soon they landed up right back in our neighbourhood where Uncle Langa would move on to starting a church with the money they had obtained from their materialistic sacrifice. It seemed the family was worse off than they started (well, according to the habitual neighbourhood gossip, anyway). What happened? How could a man go from living the dream in a suburban palace to barely skating on poverty lane? I thought it was crazy. Is this what God wants for his chosen men? I was rattled by their misfortune for some time wondering if I would soon share the same fate.

It seems the paths of chosen leaders are filled with thorn bushes. Sindi always reminded me of the sufferings that pastors commonly went through. “Of course many of them are successful, but remember not everything is as blissful as it looks on TV” She said. At that, I slid my back higher up the park bench we sat on, hopelessly attempting to fight the uncomfortable feeling of a seemingly inevitable obligation. Sindi quickly read my body language and continued “Jonas I know how much you love God, babe, I do too. But serving God doesn’t mean embracing poverty.” She insisted. “Why not pursue your dreams, make some money and be secure first then start preaching?”

 I have to admit, that appealed to me. But somehow I knew that wasn’t what I wanted to do, I got mad at myself for not even considering it; and of course I didn’t tell this to Sindi. The lecturing just wouldn’t end. I nodded my head in agreement and kissed her goodbye, slowly beginning to realise the conditional persona in her love for me-Because it sure felt dictatorial at least, at this point.

She did mention something I failed to acknowledge lately though. I do love the Lord. I felt a daunting realisation sink heavily on my mind at that point. When did I become so consumed with the lust of material things?

10:30am Sunday Morning.

The atmosphere was filled with an electrifying yet sweetly palpable presence. I was too distracted to pay any mind to the unannounced tears pouring down my apologetic face. The worship music was blaring. Only this time, I was singing along more than ever before.

I watched with intensity as he gave the signal. The music calmed. The air got dense. The man of God was ready to prophesy. One hand tightly wrapped around the microphone, the other was raised to the heavens.

“Young man, how much longer will you keep refusing me? Says the Lord” the preacher prophesied.

For some odd reason, those words relentlessly seared through my chest like a cold dagger. “There are at least two hundred people present here but that sounded like it was directed to me” I thought.

“There’s a young man in here today, who wants to serve the Lord but on his own terms. God says take His hand and He will guide you, son” he shook his tightly wrapped fist and continued “I knew you before you were formed in your mother’s womb. I have called you before you even long before you were born, says the Lord, will I not guide you as my own?!” he prophesied.

Before he could say “Young man, you know who you…”

I made my way through the congregation. Unknowingly hammering peoples’ toes with my heals at every step. By the time I reached the isle-my mind had lost all control of my body. It was like watching a movie; like I was being remote controlled as I started for the pulpit.

Moments later, I accepted the calling over my life. I had just made the biggest decision of my life too.

“You what?!” she lamented.

“What about us, our future. I’m not ready to be mam’ruti (preacher’s wife) yet?”

“But this is not about you” I shot back.

“Well, you made your decision. If you choose to struggle like the rest; go ahead, babe, it’s your life.”

And that’s all it took. Now here I stand. Confused. Yet, surprisingly, untarnished. My heart momentarily sank in my chest for a minute as I watched her strut further away.

The decision was made. I felt proud.

Life has just begun. I guess sacrifice is necessary sometimes.