The Shepherd's Seed

By Celestina Nwasor

The Shepherd's Seed is a book written by Celestina Nwasor, which tells the story of a young doctor and the son of a Pastor who became an apostate at a young age, because he thought He had reasons to believe God had failed him.

He was soon to understand that God isn't man, who can easily be figured out.

When the chips were down, on whose wings did he fly;
The occult who he practically lived his life for, His family who he often dissociated himself from, or the God who He despised but who had been there for him, all along?

It is the story of a lost sheep.
The story of a minister who had to deal with raising a rebellious son.
The story of a battle between light and darkness.
The story of a family who believe in miracles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celestina Nwasor
• Release date: Dec 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463302309

Celestina Nwasor

Celestina Nwasor, also known as Celestina Hannah Nwasor, is a God lover, an author and a scriptwriter. Some of her work are Fluke or Fate, The Shepherd's Seed 2018, and After Salvation, Feb 2019.She is the CEO of Wonderkind Media, a firm which specialises in book writing and publishing, script writing for film, and Minister at Practical Christianity Mission, Nigeria.Email : [e-mail]

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

WHY IT WAS SO

Matthew, put on your sandals, we have to go to the hospital

Why? I asked curiously, My parents will soon be back

Your father said he left you a note on his bed.

I got up and rushed into my parents’ bedroom and I saw a note in my dad's clear writing...Matthew, Uncle Hez will bring you to the hospital I was surprised. I went back to the sitting room puzzled because that had never happened before.

Why can't he pick me up himself to see mum if mum was doing an extra shift? I queried.

Matthew, there's been an accident. Hurry, we don't have time.

I don’t understand you, sir. I told uncle Hez, but there was obviously no time to answer any questions."

My heart skipped several beats. The rest of that week became the negative turning point in my life and I would never remain the same.

My name is Matthew. I will be turning 33 today and to mark it, I'm going to share my life with you. I’ve seen a lot, I’ve had different experiences and I've learnt quite a lot from every one of them, and I thought it wise to share my walk with you: how I went from ignorance to darkness and to a deeper darkness; into the valley of nothingness, till I met the game changer. No, the game changer found me.

First, I must tell you that I hated my name so much because of its religious affiliation. I'm from a Christian home, raised in the church, but wasn't a friend of God, neither did I wish to become one. I wanted to change my name to something different, something fun and something that won’t have to remind me about Jesus, the twelve Apostles or whatever. I didn't succeed because father threatened not to pay my fees if I did.

Well, my father is Pastor John, the founder of a church somewhere in my little city. He was a man of courage and great faith. He was so convinced I was the angel sent to help him in his ministry and couldn’t wait for me to grow up. Never did he realise that I was determined to be a rebel until one Sunday morning.

I was actually born into a lovely Christian family like a lot of other children. God was the owner and controller of our home and we did nothing without His knowledge and approval, through prayer. Morning devotions were a must and the evening devotions were a law.

But growing up, things began to change. First, dad became a lot busier than before. He would go out in the mornings and return late at night. There were times when I never got to see him at all. Mother said he was busy with God and ministry.

'But why would God always want to take my dad away from me?' I always asked. But there was no answer whatsoever. Father always said I should trust in the faithfulness and goodness of God, which was never changing. I did, but things got worse; he gradually became an absent father. My father would leave for weeks and wouldn't return and when I asked mum, she would say 'your daddy went to the mountain, he went to seek the face of the Lord and will soon be home'…. she was sure to say something in his defence.

Mother alone came to be with me during school events and occasions and some even thought she was a single parent. She was a beautiful, slim, dark lady. She was very strong, encouraging, hardworking and patient. My life pretty much revolved around her: she was my sun.

On the other hand, father gradually became a stranger to me. After a while, I stopped missing him and got used to his absence. My mother was a nurse, she tried as much as possible to work the morning shifts so she could pick me up from school in the afternoons.

Months were now a couple of years and one day in my fifth grade, something happened. I took ill and developed these itchy rashes all over my body. Mum called it chicken pox. It was so terrible, and primary school final exams were just around the corner. Mum took me to the hospital and did all she could, but it got worse.

I remember dad say that God would never fail His children and that we could always go to Him and He would hear our prayers. Lying on the hospital bed that day, I silently but fervently prayed to God to heal me, so I could join the rest of my class of 20 for the final exams. I prayed countless times everyday but I never got better.

Once, dad came to see me at the hospital, he prayed for me with his friend, Uncle Hezekiah. I asked him if God was going to heal me and he said 'sure, He will.' That evening, my dad was off again, God was leading him to go somewhere hidden and pray and that left me alone with mum once again.

Well, I wasn't able to make it to the exams and that was an automatic failure. A day after the examinations, I became perfectly well. I felt as though God was mocking me. That was too much for me....What would my friends say, Matthew failed, he's repeating the class. I didn't think I wanted to face my friends again, and the worst of all was that I felt that God had failed me. It wasn't the first time I asked God for something and He did quite the opposite.

That evening when I got home, mum and dad were so quiet as though something more terrible than my present predicament had happened. Mum held me in her arms to console me, she had tears in her eyes and she said thank God for everything, thank God you're alive my son. I was alive quite alright but I felt so bad I wished I wasn't. I wondered why mum would thank God for allowing me, fail my examinations. Dad had probably infected her with Thank God for everything thing which was like his slang.

My parents never took me back to that school, and I was glad I didn't have to face the shame of repeating a class, even if it wasn't my fault. I wondered why my best Friend, Emeka didn't pay me a visit after then though. The last time I saw Emeka was on my hospital bed. He had come to see me and then brought some of his notes so I could read up for the exams, but I couldn't even read them.

Soon, we moved to a far away town where my dad was to start his church. He was always excited about it and so was my mum. I wasn't really interested but just had to play along sometimes. One evening, I was alone at home when Uncle Hez swiftly walked into the house. He looked so downcast I could tell something was wrong. He was too lost in his thoughts to hear or answer my greetings. It was a cold evening but thick sweat rolled down his face. From where I sat playing scrabble, me against myself, I could see confusion written all over him.

I…s everything alright uncle? I said, trying to read his thoughts. He said to me,

Matthew, put on your sandals, we have to go to the hospital.

Why? I asked curiously, My parents will soon be back

Your father said he left you a note on your bed.

Moments later, I found my hand in Uncle Hez’s and we were on our way to the hospital.

***

I thought we were going to see my mum at the hospital but when we got there, some things didn't quite add up. First, Uncle Hez led me by the hand to the reception. I was nine years old and couldn't remember the last time someone led me by hand into a hospital I knew so well.

There was something unusual about the atmosphere. It was chilly cold and unwelcoming. There seemed to be a little group of people gathering around in different corners of the hospital. They also seemed to stop and stare the moment they saw me.

Uncle Hez, why are you bringing me to the hospital? I asked as fear began to take a hold of me.

Your mother just wants to see you, son.

When we got to the reception, dad came to meet me. That was the first time in forever, dad came to receive me instead of mum. The question on my lips was....'where's mum?'

The nurses spoke in whispers and smiled at me like never before. I was only nine, but I was old enough to understand the meaning of bizarreness.

I looked away from my dad and walked in the direction of mum's usual stand but my father restrained me. When I met his gaze again, I couldn’t help but notice the look of stupefaction on his face.

Son, your mother is not there.

Something in his voice startled me, and that was when I remembered uncle Hez had spoken of an accident. I had forgotten for a moment, but that look at dad's face told the story. If my mother wasn't home at the usual time, and there's been an accident, and at the hospital my mum's not on seat, and my dad is standing in the reception, with that look on his face accompanied with a shaky voice, then..... My thought went wide, just looking for an answer.

Now my heart was pounding so hard. My father held me closely and a few nurses I knew came around us. I could hear their voices but I understood no word. Nothing made sense to me. The world was spinning around me and I could literarily feel my own heartbeat. As soon as I got a hold of myself and found my voice, I let it out in a loud scream.

Where is my mother?

That was the worst day of my life. Tears welled up in my eyes as dad led me to the intensive care unit, and there lay my mother, wrapped in a whole lot of bandage, some soaked in what looked like blood. My tears gushed faster than a flowing stream down my face. I was short of words. My sorrow knew no bounds as I saw mum trying to speak but couldn't say a word. Instead, blood was what came out of her mouth.

Shh…. Do not say anything. Doctor Madina hushed mum, while placing a ball of cotton wool below her mouth, to soak up the thick clump of blood. There were three doctors and four nurses, working relentlessly around her.

By then, I was screaming at the top of my voice. Other nurses at the hospital were already gathered outside the room. Mum was their colleague and I knew from the look on their faces besides what I could already see that her condition was critical. One of them was Nurse Theresa; mum’s closest friend at the hospital whom the doctors refused entrance into the room. I could see her unable to hold back the pain.

They all tried to calm me down when I rushed out of the door and brushed past them and out of the clinic. I heard my dad's voice behind me and I knew he was running after me but I didn’t want to look back.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me and my dad didn't stop either. Into the busy road I ran. Cars were everywhere but I only saw them as some of the ‘little barriers on your way to your miracle…’ as dad would say. I ran past them and from the way they honked, I knew I was carelessly crossing the roads. Who cared?

I had just one place in mind and I wasn't going to stop till I got there. I ran into that very little church and fell before God's altar. I prayed for mum, I asked God to heal her if He was truly God. I asked Him to forgive me of every sin I had committed. I also asked Him to forgive the sins of my mother, my father and everyone else I knew. I prayed with the whole of my soul that He would do something. Looking back on that day, I wonder what river those endless tears came from. An hour later I was done talking. I promised God that I would serve Him for the rest of my life if He heard me.

As I turned, I saw my dad sitting in the back seat of the church in agony. I thought I heard him pray too. With both elbows on his laps, he held his head in between his palms as he fixed his gaze on me. Somewhere within him, I knew he was hoping my prayers would be heard.

Uncle Hez appeared by the door...I wonder how he knew we were there. He told my dad the doctor needed his attention. On the way back to the hospital, I kept praying, believing in the God of my father.

I was not allowed to see the doctors with my father, I was asked to stay in the reception but I preferred to sit on the pavement outside. The cold breeze ruffled my clothes as I stared into the open space, weak, tired, shattered, in fact feeling unexplainable.

Soon it was nightfall. Dad left me at the hospital while he went home to pick up a few things and