IN HIS ARM

By Elizabeth Chineye

SAFACS 2023 ENTRY 14

The voices of the choristers were seamlessly weaving in and out of the instruments and releasing such lyrics and sound that broke through the crust of the human heart, reaching down to the very core of the soul. Beside her were others just like her who had finally yielded to the convicting voice of the Spirit, defied their own doubts and shame, and stepped out to answer the altar call.

But there she knelt at the altar, weeping profusely, oblivion of every other sound, every other being. There she was, a broken and messed up soul. Someone had just uncovered the very sore in her soul. Touched the tender and hurting cords. But this time around, it was not like those touches that had left her hurting and bleeding and going through life defeated. It was not those violent banging on her soul that had always begrimed the waters with galls. No, it was a different touch, gentle and soothing.

Here, at the feet of Abba, young Chinaecherem was pouring out those bitterness and hurts in her tears. And with every drop came her forgiveness for Mother. She was letting go of the chain of bitterness against her.

How much she had battered her tender soul with her hateful words! Most often, on those nights in the dingy room she shared with the other young hawkers when the raving tides of life besieged her soul and stole the sleep from her eyes, she had found herself wondering if she had forced herself on her. Had she orchestrated the rape that led to her own conception?

Being seen as the daughter of a rapist was enough devastating stigma she had had to carry through her childhood. Everyone knew it. And they whispered it among themselves, behind her. Then came the superficial smiles they flashed as soon as she came into view.

"Chinaecherem, fine girl! How are you?... Oh, you're looking for my daughter, Ebube? She's not around. I sent her on an errand." Then to avoid her sitting back to wait. " Don't worry, just go. She'll come and see you when she returns." But as she stepped out of the gate, she could hear her friend's laughter coming from the house.

Young Neche could let those stigmatization pass. They were outsiders. But to have her mother close her heart to her and pump out daily doses of abuse into her life was more than her young soul could carry. All through her 15 years of existence, she had known no acceptance but rejection. No love but hurts.

But as she knelt there that night at the altar with such new revelation of a Love that was as absolute, pure, and enrapturing as nothing she had ever experienced, she could feel the stigma breaking off her soul. Freedom. She could feel His Arms around her. The Father's love. Abba's touch.

The pastor's voice was booming right into the mic. "Come to the Father tonight! His arms are wide open to receive you."