Michael laughed so hard that his shoulders shook. "No, Amara. Nobody almost used me for ritual."
Amara's eyes widened as she leaned closer. "Then how? Because I can't imagine you womanising. Look at your face. You look too holy."
Michael smirked, lowering his voice a little. "Holy? You think so?"
"Yes. Very holy and innocent."
Michael pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. "Well, your face looks holy and innocent too. You can't judge a person's past by their present look."
"Maybe because you're not meant to judge a person by their past in the first place," Amara said thoughtfully.
"Well, I don't fully agree with that. As much as I believe in people changing, some consequences come from certain pasts, and those consequences won't care whether you were part of the person's deeds or not—for example, a former cultist who gets married. If ever one of the rival cults he fought against discovers him in the future, they might not care about his renouncing cultism. They could go for the wife or kids or even kill him and leave his wife a widow," Michael said reasonably.
"Hmm. And I guess there is the shame and stigma that comes from certain things sha. Like marrying someone who was once mad," Amara said with a grin.
Michael chuckled but agreed with her. "There is that too."
"But the future matters more than the past, doesn't it?" Amara asked thoughtfully, "I mean, if a person saw you back then when you womanised and judged you by that, they wouldn't have known you'd end up a pastor today, would they? We can't always write people off just by their past or what we think we know about them presently. And I believe that's why we need the Holy Spirit to help us in our decision-making when it comes to our relationship with people. Although I know the past and present are important, I still believe the future is more importanter. I'll give you an example. We just talked about the shame and stigma of not wanting to marry someone who was mad in the past, but how do you know if the normal person you're marrying now won't get mad in the future? Or how do you know if the good man you're marrying now won't become a cultist or even a ritualist in the future? A pastor today can backslide and become a womaniser tomorrow. Life happens to everyone. Bad people become good or worse, and good people become bad. Anything can happen," Amara said, then trailed off when she saw the way Michael was staring at her, and she laughed.
"How did we even get here? Small gist like this, and I'm preaching when you're the pastor. Sorry," she said with an apologetic smile.
"Why are you apologising. I'm enjoying the conversation," Michael said, though what she'd said was still playing on his mind.
Even though he knew all this already, hearing it from her this way made so much sense.
Why hadn't he thought of it that way? Why had he been stuck with thoughts of her past and the embarrassment his being with her would cause him when God, who knew her future and his, had chosen her for him? Michael wondered as he let go of his last inhibitions.
"You are very wise," Michael teased.
Amara grinned, spooning more ice cream into her mouth. "Thank you for the observation."
Michael chuckled. "God will help you, and this your pride."
"I don't say thank you, wahala. I say thank you again, problem. What do you want?" She asked, giggling.
To marry you. I want to marry you, Michael thought, but only smiled as he focused on his ice cream again.
After she finished the ice cream on her plate, her eyes shone with mischief as she focused on Michael again. "Oya, confess. I'm listening."
"Confess what?"
"Didn't I ask you a question before?" Amara asked, giving him a questioning look.
"I thought you forgot the question already," Michael groaned.
She giggled. "Forget fire. They dey forget sweet gist? Talk jor. How did you become a womaniser? And how did you end up becoming born again?"
Michael sighed dramatically, leaning back in his seat. "How do people become womanisers? Is it not to jump from girl to girl without commitment to anyone? I was a good boy until I went to the university. Had the wrong set of friends. I was handsome and intelligent, and I came from a wealthy home. Naturally, girls were drawn to me. My friends and I thought we were big boys. We went clubbing almost every weekend, indulged in hard drugs and did stuff… I lived like that for some time."
Amara's spoon froze halfway to her mouth. "Hard drugs? You? As in, actual drugs?"
Michael nodded, looking embarrassed now. "Yes. I even had braids one time."
Amara's jaw dropped as she looked at his head as if she could see the braids on him, then she burst into loud laughter. People passing by looked at their car, but she didn't care. "Braids! Pastor Michael with braids? No wonder God called you. He must have been so tired of your wahala."
Michael shook his head, laughing with her. "You see why I didn't want to tell you? Now you'll keep laughing at me."
Amara wiped her eyes, still giggling. "No o. I'm just shocked. You looked like you came out of your mother's womb holding a Bible. So, how did the prodigal son find his way back home?"
Michael bent toward her, his smile soft now. "Well, I guess God just decided to show mercy. One Friday night, I was going to the club with my friends, and I saw a fine girl and got out of the car. Then one thing led to another, and she convinced me to follow her to her campus fellowship for a vigil. Something broke inside me that night. I cried like a child. I gave my life to Christ there and then."
Amara's laughter faded. She stared at him with interest. "You cried?"
Michael nodded. His voice dropped low. "Yes. And not the kind of tears you cried for burnt rice."
Amara laughed softly.
"Funny that my parents are preachers and I've heard so many sermons all my life, yet I wasn't saved until that day. Want to know something funny?" Michael asked, and she nodded.
"I became the fellowship's president before I graduated," he said, and Amara smiled.
"Aww. What about your friends?"
Michael shrugged. "The friendship ended naturally when I gave my life to Christ. They didn't want to be friends with me anymore. I didn't mind, though. I was better off without them."
"What about your Mom? How did your parents handle having a black sheep for a son?" She asked, and he smiled.
"At first, they were very furious and ashamed. They took me to deliverance, saying maybe I was possessed. It was worse because I was attending Unilag and we were living in Lagos. The church is big, and I was always posting on Instagram. So members would see my posts. Bloggers even carried some of the news. You know how they like to drag pastors. I didn't care about any of the drama I was causing. Initially, they'd shout and threaten to disown me so I won't bring a curse to the family like the sons of Eli. They cut my allowance, and once my mom even took me to soldiers to flog me. After some time, they relaxed."
"They relaxed?" Amara asked with a confused frown.
Michael nodded slowly. "Yeah. One time, I returned home with braids and earrings, expecting them to shout as usual or even cut me off for good this time, but there was no reaction. They acted like they didn't see the braids or earrings."
"For real?"
Michael chuckled. "For real. My mom even served my food. That night, I locked my door before going to sleep. You know African parents. You can't trust their silence."
Amara laughed. "But they didn't do anything sha?"
"They didn't. The next day, they called me and said they'd decided to leave me to God. After I gave my life to Christ, they told me why they changed their tactics."
"What was their reason?" Amara asked curiously.
"They said they realised all they were doing was pushing me further away. And it was actually true. The more they punished me, the more I rebelled," Michael said with a deep sigh as he remembered his past, and now he wondered how he could ever have judged Amara for hers when he had been worse than her.
The only difference between them was that he was male and she was female, and while he had spent money on girls, men had paid to have her. But they weren't much different.
Girls like her could only sell their bodies because men like him paid for it….
"That was it?" Amara asked, cutting into his thoughts.
"They said this wasn't like the Old Testament. Their calling as pastors wasn't a Levitical calling like Eli's. They understood that being Pastors didn't mean their children would be naturally born again or take over from them as pastors. They needed me to know God for myself and have a personal relationship that wasn't based on hearsay. So, they let go of pride and the shame of what people were saying and just handed me to God. They were confident they had done their best and trained me in the way I should go, and it was left to God to make sure I don't depart from the way now that I was an adult. They kept me in prayers."
"Hmm. And God did it," Amara said softly.
"Yeah. Funny enough, it wasn't long after that incident before I gave my life to Christ. I was even still carrying the braids," he said with a small laugh.
"Wow. God is faithful."
"Yes, he is, mummy G.O.," he teased, making her laugh. "So, that's the story."
Amara smiled, "Well, thank God for your life. I'm happy God saved your soul. Maybe you were saved, so I'll be saved through you. To be honest with you, when I told Valerie I wanted out, I planned on continuing the hook-up thing on my own so I could save money and establish myself. But then everything turned out differently, and it's thanks to you, who God used."
Michael winced at that. "Hmm."
"What?" Amara asked when she noticed the guilty expression on his face.
"Okay. Let me make a little confession," he said, and her heart skipped a beat as she wondered what he wanted to say and if he was going to tell her he liked her.
"I'm not sure if I've told you this before. But I was there that day at my cousin's house when you both had that misunderstanding. I was in the guest room and I heard you both."
Amara's brows pulled together as she mentally replayed the conversation that day to remember what she had said so she'd know what he'd heard.
"Did you also know I was the one at the pharmacy that day?" She asked, but he shook his head.
"No. I didn't see your face. I wanted to speak to you and offer help, but didn't want to embarrass you or my cousin. It'd be weird to think I was eavesdropping on your conversation. Then that night at the pharmacy, the Holy Spirit asked me to preach to you…"
"That was the reason you asked if I was a Christian?" Amara asked, and he nodded.
"Yeah. So when you said you were a chorister, I felt there was no need to bother. What could I have said that you haven't heard in church? Plus, you were dressed so modestly, I couldn't have imagined you planned to do anything like that. If I had known you were the one at the house the previous day or that you had such plans, I'd have done my best to stop you," he said with a sigh.
Amara was silent for a while, "That's more reason why we should listen to the Holy Spirit, right? As humans, we will always make mistakes when we judge our sight or feelings. You're saying what could you have said that I've not heard. What did they say at the vigil that you attended that you haven't heard yet, that you gave your life to Christ? The word might not always make sense to you, but it'd hit you when it matters most. Isaiah 55:11 says the word of God can't go back to Him void. If you had spoken when you were asked to, the purpose would have been accomplished. You should compensate me for uselessing my life for two years because of your disobedience," Amara said with a teasing smile.
Michael chuckled. "I will. I know God will make sure of that."
For a moment, their eyes held, and neither of them said a word. Silence filled the car, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable.
Finally, Amara cleared her throat. "Wow! God works in mysterious ways, doesn't He? Who would have believed we'd both be seated here like this two years later?"
"Definitely not me," Michael said with a small smile.
Amara leaned back, eyes playful. "So… if I check online, I can see the pictures of you with a braid and earrings?"
Michael laughed. "Don't try it. I knew I shouldn't have told you."
Amara laughed until her side hurt. "I will, sir. I must see picture evidence."