THE BATTLE FOR A SAINTESS | PART ONE
Morning sunlight spilled gently across the tiled compound of the Wonders’ home.
The cream-painted walls reflected a warm glow, and bougainvillea flowers leaned over the fence, their petals swaying softly in the quiet breeze.
The iron gate stood closed, and the distant hum of the waking street drifted faintly through the air.
Cream-colored curtains swayed lightly in the breeze flowing through the half-open balcony door.
Golden light streamed through the sitting room windows, bathing the polished floor in a peaceful glow, while the faint sound of morning hymns floated gently out toward the road.
Inside the house, Mr. Wonder sat at the wooden dining table, his Bible open before him. His glasses rested low on his nose as the thin pages of Scripture caught the morning light.
His finger rested along a line of text, and his chest rose slowly as he drew in a steady breath. His voice came out low and composed, carrying the quiet authority of Scripture.
Mr. Wonder (reverent):
“‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.’”
The words flowed into the quiet house like a sacred current. The air seemed to still as the Scripture settled over the room.
Mrs. Wonder paused in the kitchen doorway, her breathing soft as she absorbed the words, and Excel’s pen froze above her notepad.
The spiritual gravity of the moment pressing gently upon every soul in the room.
Mr. Wonder slowly lifted his gaze toward his wife, who stood near the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands with a clean cloth.
The sunlight traced the side of her face as she listened with quiet attention.
Mrs. Wonder’s lips trembled slightly as emotion gathered in her chest. The soft rustle of the curtains brushed the wall behind her as she drew in a breath to respond.
Her voice, gentle and reverent, warmed by quiet resolve.
Mrs. Wonder (softly):
“And we will serve Him,”
The declaration slipped gently into the room, yet its quiet strength seemed to ripple through the space like a vow renewed before heaven.
Mr. Wonder’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the sound of her voice, and Excel’s eyes flickered upward from her notebook.
Outside the compound wall, the faint call of a morning bird carried through the air, as if echoing the commitment spoken within the house.
A gentle silence lingered, deep and reflective.
Mrs. Wonder lifted her chin slightly, her gaze steady with conviction. Her tone, firm and unyielding, carrying the calm strength of someone who had already decided.
Mrs. Wonder (firmly):
“No matter what storms come.”
The words settled with deeper weight this time, like a stone dropped into still water. The curtains breathed inward with the wind as the house seemed to absorb the promise.
Mr. Wonder nodded slowly, the lines on his face softening with quiet agreement, while Excel straightened slightly on the sofa, her spirit stirring with the seriousness of her parents’ devotion.
Her notepad resting on her lap. Her pen hovered above the page, unmoving now, as reverence filled the room like invisible incense.
The faint ticking of a wall clock echoed softly in the stillness.
Mr. Wonder lifted his gaze from the open Bible toward his daughter. His jaw tightened slightly as if weighing each word with fatherly care.
His voice crossed the room with gentle authority, drawing her attention completely.
Mr. Wonder (calmly):
“Excel…”
Excel leaned forward slightly, her eyes attentive. Her response came with respectful calm, yet beneath it burned the discipline of a daughter trained in devotion.
Excel (softly):
“Yes, Dad.”
Mr. Wonder studied her for a brief moment, while Mrs. Wonder watched the exchange from beside them with quiet maternal warmth.
Mr. Wonder slowly closed his Bible slightly, his finger marking the page as his voice rose again.
Mr. Wonder (thoughtfully):
“Do you remember what the Lord commanded in the book of Deuteronomy?”
The question lingered in the air like a test of both memory and spirit.
Mrs. Wonder leaned slightly closer, her presence warm beside her daughter, while the golden sunlight continued spilling across the tiled floor.
Excel’s fingers pressed gently against the edge of her notebook as she gathered her thoughts. The quiet reply carried humility rather than uncertainty.
Excel (softly):
“Yes, please.”
Mr. Wonder studied her carefully, sensing both her intellect and the deeper spiritual fire within her.
Mrs. Wonder stepped fully from the kitchen doorway and lowered herself gently beside Excel on the sofa. Her hand rested lightly on her daughter’s arm.
Her lips curved faintly as pride and gratitude blended in her expression.
Mrs. Wonder (warmly):
“Not part of the heart… not a portion of the soul… but all.”
The statement landed like a sacred reminder passed from mother to child. Excel’s eyes softened slightly as the truth settled deeper into her spirit.
Mr. Wonder watched them both, his heart steady with the quiet satisfaction of seeing faith passed down through generations.
Mr. Wonder slowly lifted his right hand, palm open before them. The air shimmered faintly above his palm as if touched by invisible light.
A soft glow gathered and expanded outward, forming a living screen suspended in the air like a pane of crystal breathing with gentle radiance.
Within the glowing image, an angel stood beneath a vast open sky, white light flowing around him like a river of purity.
The angel lifted his hands toward heaven as his voice resonated through the room.
Angel (firmly):
“‘And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart…’ That means there must be no divided affection. No hidden corner reserved for pride, ambition, or secret desires.”
Excel’s eyes widened slightly, reflecting the glowing image before her. Mrs. Wonder inhaled quietly, the sacred weight of the message filling the room.
The angel stepped forward within the luminous screen, his gaze intense and piercing with divine clarity.
His tone carried a calm authority—measured, resonant, as though each word had been weighed in heaven before reaching the earth.
Angel (steadily):
“‘With all thy soul…’ The soul contains your will, your emotions, your choices. Loving Him with all your soul means every decision bows before Him.”
The spiritual atmosphere thickened with reverence as the explanation unfolded. The living light flickered softly against the walls and furniture of the room.
Excel sat motionless, absorbing every word, while Mrs. Wonder’s grip on her daughter’s hand tightened slightly in silent agreement.
The angel lifted both hands toward the sky, his voice rising with final authority.
Angel (powerfully):
“‘With all thy might…’ Your strength, your education, your influence, your success — none of it is yours. It is fuel for His glory.”
The declaration thundered gently through the glowing image like a trumpet of truth.
Excel’s gaze burned with renewed focus. Mr. Wonder slowly lowered his hand as the living screen dissolved into particles of light that faded back into the warm morning air.
The house returned to its quiet stillness. Silence rested in the room like a sacred pause.
Mr. Wonder rose slowly from the dining table chair and walked toward Excel. The floor creaked softly beneath his step.
He stopped in front of her, his voice lowering with fatherly tenderness.
Mr. Wonder (seriously):
“You are excelling in school. Your teachers speak highly of you. But excellence without devotion is dangerous.”
The warning settled into the atmosphere like a solemn guard placed around her future. Excel lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, the quiet fire within them glowing brighter.
Mrs. Wonder watched the exchange carefully, her hand still resting gently on her daughter’s arm.
Excel straightened slightly, resolve forming in her posture. The words rose from her heart like a covenant sealed in the presence of heaven.
Excel (earnestly):
“I will not allow anything to replace God in my life.”
Mr. Wonder’s expression softened with pride, while Mrs. Wonder squeezed her daughter’s hand with quiet affirmation.
She turned slightly toward Excel, her tone gentle but filled with motherly caution.
Mrs. Wonder (soft):
“Guard your prayer life. Guard your altar. The devil does not always attack loudly.”
The warning carried a subtle spiritual gravity. The breeze slipped once more through the half-open balcony door, brushing the curtains as if whispering agreement.
Mr. Wonder nodded slowly, recognizing the truth of her words, while Excel absorbed the counsel with solemn attention.
Outside the compound, a motorcycle sped past the gate, its engine roaring briefly before fading into the distance.
Night gradually settled over the neighborhood.
That evening, inside her bedroom, Excel knelt beside her bed. The bedside lamp cast soft shadows across the walls.
The curtains fluttered lightly, brushing the window frame with a quiet tapping sound.
Her Bible lay open across the mattress, its pages spread wide beneath the lamplight. A pen rested between her fingers as she carefully underlined a verse. Her voice rose quietly in prayer.
Excel (reverently):
“‘Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts.’”
The words drifted upward through the still room like incense rising toward heaven.
The soft tapping of the curtain against the window continued rhythmically, while the faint night breeze carried the distant sounds of the street beyond the compound walls.
Excel’s shoulders rose and fell slowly as she lingered over the verse. She paused, pressing her palm gently against her chest as though weighing the sincerity of her prayer.
She lifted her head slightly, her tone deepening with earnest longing.
Excel (humbly):
“‘And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’”
The prayer settled into the quiet night with profound sincerity.
The lamplight flickered faintly against the framed certificates on the wall—MD and PhD achievements standing as silent witnesses to her academic excellence.
Yet none of them held her attention now. The air in the room felt sacred, calm, and watchful, as though unseen hosts observed the devotion of a soul determined to belong wholly to God.
The room remained simple—a bookshelf filled with theological texts, her academic certificates framed neatly upon the wall, and a small wooden desk arranged with careful precision.
Yet the atmosphere in the room belonged not to scholarship or achievement, but to prayer.
And as the night breeze slipped quietly through the window, a deep stillness settled over the house—the calm, watchful silence that often follows a prayer truly heard in heaven.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Written by Agbemawle Atsu Norvishi
© All Rights Reserved. Shared freely to bless and inspire.
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