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Pastor X : A Christmas Story

  Copyright 2014 Gerald Kithinji

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  Chapter 1: The Donation

  Pastor X was not just good. He was a charmer- a snake charmer. He was a preacher of exemplary zeal. Only his snakes were people who had committed or were about to commit sins. Actually they were sinners- all of them. Otherwise they would not come to church. And the greatest of them all was right there amongst them. Adopting a critical attitude he said:

  “That’s right, he’s here; she’s here- amongst us. It may be you or you or you over there. But I’m sure the greatest sinner is here with us. Anyone of us could be that sinner.”

  He stopped, turned his head slowly, his eyes scanning the congregation. Could it be that one; the lady in white; the man in the beige suit; the girl in curls; the bald man with roving eyes; the guy in wide-rimmed glasses; the lady with the enormous Bible; the woman in red? Would any of them see the eternal sunshine?

  Abruptly he turned to the book in front of him in the pulpit: The Bible.

  “It is not for us to know. Only God knows who the sinners are. Only He knows. But I can tell you something that can help you to unburden your heart. The Lord has spoken.”

  “This is the word of God,” he said as he lifted the Bible. “Only through obedience and observance of the word of God can you be saved. He has blessed you with riches but you deny him even a tenth of that wealth. How many of you can say that they have been blessed this week? Raise your hands. You harden your hearts. You shut the door and count your riches and deny Him just a tenth, a tenth of the riches that He has blessed you with. And you expect to enter the Kingdom of God? Forget it! It will be easier for a camel to enter through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. Search your hearts. I’m only a messenger of peace and love.”

  How he dazzled them with logic! How he fired them with passion! How he scared the hell out of them! How he impressed on them that he was only carrying his share of the load, however heavy that might be! All delivered with awesome zeal. He was only a tiny ship in the vast ocean, he reminded them, again and again, only doing his job, attending to his calling. His credo was that will-power and intensity could do anything. He carried that charm of his as a bee carried its sting. Oftentimes he made enough noise for the devil in hell. The Church had immeasurable opportunities for social advancement and, as such, was a great and exciting place from which to soar!

  “Come thither all you sinners, repent. Salvation will come only to those who prepare wisely and pursue relentlessly.”

  That Friday night a member of his congregation visited him. He was an estate agent by the name Donovan, but everybody called him Dono. He had sold a big building in town and had made a tidy sum for himself and a lot more for the landlord, his absentee client. He had made $500 000 for himself.

  “Thank you, Pastor, for a most instructive sermon last Sunday. I was very deeply touched. This is a small token of my appreciation.”

  And with that Donovan, took out a cheque from his brief case and passed it to him.

  “The Lord be praised,” said Pastor X, as he gave it a growing hungry look. “I’m sure the Lord will multiply your wealth by leaps and bounds, my Brother. Amen.”

  They hugged warmly. After an anxious ten-minute sermon on the virtues of tithing, Pastor X turned to his visitor.

  “You came in just as I was preparing to go out. There is a family that had booked me for prayers tonight. I could not possibly excuse myself from attending. But I will make time next week so that you and I can share. Once again I thank you for your contribution to the Church.”

  They hugged again, before he guided the visitor out.

  “And by the way is your spouse aware of this?”

  That hurt, Dono knew that it hurt badly.

  “Not yet, but I’ll inform her tonight.”

  “Pass my regards.”

  The visitor left. He had met Pastor X at his bank, bumping onto him when he turned abruptly to go out for something, probably his checkbook, just as Dono was entering close behind him. That was almost two years before this eventful day.

  Dono the donor did not go home straight. He passed by his sports club and stood at a strategic point near the counter. If anyone made the mistake of greeting him that night, he responded by ordering a beer or whisky or brandy for the member in question. It was no surprise therefore when a few minutes later, he found himself in the middle of a small crowd of animated admirers.

  “So, what’s the story man,” said one of them. “We haven’t seen you in such a good mood for months!”

  That was true because, generally, he went about his business- whatever that might be- without attracting much attention. There were times when he almost became invisible and inaudible.

  “It’s my sixth birthday celebration this year,” he answered, “if I may let you in on a closely guarded secret.”

  “We missed the last five,” said the club secretary.

  “You missed nothing. Those were lean times! Let the good times roll.”

  Dono got home late. In his inebriated state, he briefed his wife as well as he could of his good fortune and his generous donation. He told her of his visit to Pastor X and the cheque for $50 000.

  “What?” she responded, “Fifty, what?”

  “Fifty thousand dollars- it’s only a tenth.”

  “Only a damn fool would do that. Fifty thousand! Fifty! Do you know that pastor? Do you know what he is doing with certain members of his church, the women?”

  “Tell me. What’s he doing?”

  “How many have attracted lascivious glances from that man, do you know?”

  Dono had heard of one or two rather sleazy accusations against some pastors- charismatic preachers and prophets, but never against Pastor X. But then, Dono was not really a regular attendant at church services. Many a time he drove his wife and children as far as the roundabout near the church and left them to walk the few metres to the church. He would then go his way and return an hour or two later to pick them. But on a few occasions he entered the church and listened. The day of his conversion into a donor was one such occasion. All he had seen was a good man dutifully and vigorously serving God the best way he could, although he could not discount the possibility that he could be afflicted with the sin of pride.

  Now his wife Priscilla was telling him that the church would not see even a thousand dollars of the fifty thousand that he had intended to give it. Mark the words. She was determined to see that the preacher did not lay his hands on the real cash. She would see to it. The moment he mentioned it, she had purse her lips with such disapproval nothing could sway her.

  “There is no denying that the man possesses a certain charm,” she conceded.

  “Sure, he can galvanize and dazzle any congregation,” Dono added.

  “But he is rotten to the core!” she said. “If only people knew.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “We must stop it. Tomorrow is Saturday. If we are there early we can stop it.”

  “Normally it takes four days to clear. Special clearance takes a day. But tomorrow being a Saturday, it would have to wait until Monday.”

  “We take no chances. First thing tomorrow morning we go do it.”

  “But … never mind.”

  “I have to come with you. Otherwise…”

  “How do I…?”

  “Tell him it’s me. I’m co-signatory and I had not signed it.”

  At five mi
nutes to eight Saturday morning, Dono and Priscilla were at the Bank entrance. They entered at the first opportunity and went straight to the manager’s office. They waited and waited and waited. A whole twenty minutes! It felt like two hours. Then the manager’s door opened. Out came… Pastor X. They almost collapsed.

  “Good morning, brother, Madam! How are you this morning? Sorry, I’m in a hurry. See you tomorrow at Church.”

  “Eh!”

  “I’ll have plenty of time for you tomorrow. Be blessed!”

  And off he went, after shooting a sly look at Priscilla. Still tongue-tied, the two turned to look at the still open door to the manager’s office.

  “You may go in,” said the secretary, after a beep on the intercom.

  While they waited, Dono and Priscilla had thought that the manager was alone all along. They had not seen him go in but then some managers carried their own keys. What baffled them was the fact that he had entered with a non-staff member at that early hour.

  “Sit down Madam, Dono,” he said pointing at the chairs. They sat.

  “You are up early for a Saturday,” he said jocularly.

  “So are you,” replied Dono.

  “Routine for me. Yes, what can I do for you?”

  “There is a cheque for $50 000 issued to Pastor X, who has just left. Of course, you know him.”

  “Yes; what about it?”

  “We thought you should know….”

  “Yes, I know. Is there something wrong with it?”

  “No. Not really. I just wanted to know when it would be cleared. I passed it to him last night.”

  “Oh, that! It has already been cleared. Is that all?”

  “Oh, yes. But, wait. Now that I know how efficient you can be, when you want to, I would like to transfer all the funds in my personal and company accounts to my accounts with the merchant bank across the street. I’m sure my wife has a similar request as regards her personal account.”

  “Wait a minute! You mean to say you will close all your accounts with us?”

  “Precisely! I’m sure the good pastor is moving all his accounts to your branch!”

  Actually, as soon as Dono left the pastor the previous night, the latter put the cheque in his brief case and went straight to his favourite health club. The bank manager routinely passed through there to shake off fatigue before heading home. When Pastor X got there the manager had not yet arrived, but some friends of his were already there. One of them gave Pastor X the banker’s cell phone number. He went outside and called him.

  “I should be there in fifteen minutes. Is it urgent?”

  “Would I call you if it wasn’t?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Matters of the soul are always urgent. I won’t waste your time, brother. Time is money!”

  “In my world… yes.”

  Pastor X hovered around anxiously until the banker showed up, dead on time.

  “Your world and my world have a common meeting place, a rendezvous,” said Pastor X as he embraced the banker.

  “And that is?”

  “The Bank, we cannot avoid the bank. Come.”

  They went to the private room. Pastor X took out the cheque.

  “It’s about this,” he said. “Some people want to do good deeds, but the devil won’t hear of it. He tempts the people. He shows them another way. We have to guard against that.”

  “You suspect the genuineness of the transaction, the cheque?”

  “No; but I suspect second thoughts. So I want it cleared forthwith.”

  “You are lucky. These days I carry some forms with me. Business is tough you know. I have some deposit slips and all you have to do is fill them and I’ll deposit for you first thing in the morning.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “In your world you take 10%. In mine we take only 2.5%.”

  “Fine! You can take even five percent.”

  “OK. Let’s go to my car.”

  The bank manager’s commission amounted to $2500. That is the money that now threatened to wreck his career. If Dono moved his accounts, the bank bosses would want to hear all about it. And the manager’s job would be on the chopping board; at least. Customer care, you see!

  “No, Dono. Please. Don’t do that. I’ll work out something.”

  “That cheque stands stopped or I move all my accounts!”

  “And mine, too,” added Priscilla.

  “That is harsh, my friend. We have always given you exemplary service!”

  “Yes, no doubt. My cheque took four days to clear. The good pastor’s cheque twenty minutes! That is extra-exemplary!”

  The manager looked out of the window for a moment.

  “Maybe there’s something I can do. Wait for me at the reception for a moment.”

  They went out to the secretary’s room. A moment later the manager called the secretary and in she went. A while later, the tea lady entered with coffee for the visitors. The manager must have been thinking hard, weighing what to do. He, too, had a cup of coffee in front of him, from which he sipped meditatively.

  When they were ushered in again, the manager handed Dono some forms.

  “Sign these for me, if you will; both of you.”

  They were Account Signatory Change Advise forms. Upon signing them the relevant account became subject to joint signature to validate any cheque.

  “Don’t put the date on them,” said the manager. “You will have to supply that after verifying with your cheque book. And that information has to reach me before 8a.m Monday.”

  “I happen to have the cheque book with me,” said Dono.

  Out of his brief case came the fat cheque book. He flipped through the pages.

  “The last payment was made on the nineteenth, that is, four days ago.”

  “Put that down, 19th. I’ll deal with the rest.”

  They signed the forms and dated them as directed. The manager went through the details.

  “This is fine. Ok, Ok, both of them,” he reported. Then, turning to Dono he continued, “Now I hope you are satisfied, if not happy. And you, too, madam.”

  “Perfect,” said Dono. “I had told him to wait until I informed my wife. I didn’t expect him to coerce the bank to clear it.”

  “Let’s say, I have let you off the hook. I still have Pastor X to deal with!”

  “Blame it on me,” said Priscilla, relishing her female intransigence. “Say I threatened to shoot you with the gun I always carry in my handbag.”

  “And what will you say to your Church?”

  “I don’t do business with the church. I worship, that’s all. But I know he will not mention it. It’s a hot potato.”

  “I’ll tell him to see the drawer of the cheque to secure the second signature. That will absolve me and keep him calm until your meeting. How about that?”

  “Perfect!” said Dono. “And I’ll ask him to come up with a project that will be supervised by a committee of Members of the Church, to which I will give my donation, whatever that will be; but not money for his pocket!”

  “We are always encouraging people – including churches, to come up with community project proposals and we are always ready to help shape them up. If such a proposal were to materialize we would definitely help.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” said Priscilla. “It has helped change my view of banks considerably.”

  So it went. Come Sunday and Pastor X was shocked to see Priscilla in attendance, but without Dono. He did not expect her to ever set foot in that Church again. Might she have pulled off something? The manager had promised to keep his word and that was backed by an appreciable consideration. Would he have kept quiet if anything had changed? He steered clear of the subject of tithing that morning. In fact, the service was a whole twenty minutes shorter.

  The most notable news was that Pastor X would be away for two weeks on a planned overseas working visit that would take him to Paris, London and (although not mentioned) Switzerland.

  God
willing.

  “Brother Chris has very kindly agreed to lead the services in my absence. Thank you Brother Chris. Thank you all. Be blessed.”

  Chapter 2- Bleak Sunday