Scribe Anointing

8

Unable to bear the discomfort she felt in her current state, Louise opened up to her online bestie, Cynthia, about how cold and dry her intimacy with God had become. The girl was shocked and appalled.

"Oh, my God! You're burning out. Why didn't you let me know earlier?"

"I— I am sorry. I didn't want to disappoint you or seem weak to the people looking up to me. But it's getting worse and I don't want to lose my wonder because... I am afraid I'm turning out as Samson did," Louise said over the video call as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Oh, Louise! Is that why your story updates have been stilted and infrequent lately? I should have been more serious about the nudge I felt in my spirit to intercede for you. I'm so sorry for being such an insensitive friend."

"It's okay. It's my fault, not yours, after all."

Cynthia sighed. "Look, here's what you're going to do. You'll have to go on a recharge retreat. Take a break from the noise. But first, you have to still tell someone more spiritually mature."

Now, Louise stood in front of her Dad who was her spiritual mentor too. Mr Iyioluwa was the chief usher at their home Church but he had a strong spiritual ground. He was the one who had lovingly led her to Christ.

Honestly, this was embarrassing for her, to say the least.

She wrung her fingers as she approached him.

"Uh, Dad, are you busy? I want to talk to you about something," she said in a small voice.

Her dad looked up from his laptop, peeking at her from behind his spectacles, and smiled warmly at her.

"Baby girl, come here," he said, placing his laptop aside and patting the space beside him on the couch.

When she had snuggly sat beside him, he wrapped her in his arms.

"Abba told me you'll come needing my help. Never knew it would take you this long."

Emotion welled in her chest and all she could do for the next few minutes was cry into her Dad's chest.

God had reported her case to her Daddy.
Perhaps the only reason she had felt so repentant was because he was already interceding for her. Just the thought that God would be so intentional about her life made her feel so loved.

"Why did you drift so far away from Him? Why did you treasure the gift more than the giver? Why did you give the enemy a chance to toy with your heart?"

"Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay. He's ever ready to heal."

That night she held a personal vigil. This was the beginning of the three-day retreat. She detained her phone in her Dad's care for the rest of the holiday.

The song 'Spirit Fire Me Up' by Theophilus Sunday blasted into her soul through her headphones as she poured out her heart in surrender to God.

There was a lot to iron out and she wasn't going to hide behind the trees.

~~~