The thing came on him again like fresh anointing. He had experienced it countless times, yet each experience, like this one, felt surprisingly unique. He whispered an almost silent but heartfelt prayer. He needed help, and speedily.

In desperation, he summoned his will. Yet, when it responded and he felt its potency, or more accurately, lack of it, he knew it wouldn’t stand a dog’s chance against such an overpowering foe. No, this should not be happening, he thought. Not after all those nights of praying, of being prayed for, of fasting, of reading and meditating on the Scriptures.

But while he pondered these things, the hunger gradually grew stronger, more demanding, more insistent on immediate gratification. It knocked impossibly heavy and urgent blows at the walls of his convictions. The experience was paralyzingly terrifying.

No, this could not be happening. Not after all the vows he had made to God. His mind raced to the not so distant past. He saw himself kneeling on the desolate park, his arms stretched in sincere surrender, tears snaking down his eyes, as he besought God, “Take this thing away from me!” He had left there that night -– was it three or four days ago? — knowing that that was the last time he was making such a request of God. Something had told him that that night was the night.

He tried to recollect the event, the experience, the words he had spoken, and each time he considered it, he knew that he had meant each word in earnest.

The thing, as if angry with being ignored, even if it was for a few seconds, attacked again with renewed vigor. It wanted attention, wanted his thoughts for itself—alone. Inundating waves of helplessness swept through him. He jerked. He hadn’t thought that the experience could get any worse.

In his trance-like state, he thought he heard a voice calling him. It sounded real, yet otherworldly. He told himself that he would handle the distraction later. He was in the midst of a fierce battle now. He had to put everything to the task. He couldn’t afford to be praying over and over again concerning this thing. Never again!

For some strange reason, he remembered that preacher who had spoken with such passion about how he too had struggled with masturbation and had overcome. A ray of hope lit in his—

“Papa,” the voice came again, this time louder.

He jerked again.

The owner of the voice stared at him in wonder. She said nothing at first, but the bewilderment written on her face told that she expected an explanation. When it wasn’t forthcoming, she added her voice.

“So, tell me," —she put both hands on her hips— “what visions were you having?” Her tone showed she would brook no delays. It reminded him so much of his mother that he nearly smiled.

“What do you mean?”, he asked.

“What do you mean, too? I’ve been tapping you and calling your name for the past --” She turned to look at the wall clock— “for the past… well, for a long time.” She looked at him suspiciously, bringing her face closer to his, and then asked, “Or were you caught up in the third heavens?”

This made him laugh so hard. In his mind, though, he responded, “I wish”.

“Anyway, Papa,” his secretary said, “I was wondering if you would give us the closing prayer for today. It’s been long since you blessed us.”

 “Oh, let my assistant give the closing prayer. I’ll have to leave church earlier today.”

The secretary did not push any further. “So that you can have some more time with the Holy Spirit, I guess?”

She interpreted his hesitance to answer as a “yes”. That was why she admired him! He never blew his own trumpet when it came to spiritual encounters with God. Until she met him, she hadn’t known that God still did speak audibly. Neither had she known that it was possible for a human being to read through the whole Bible, or spend a whole night alone in prayer. She had secretly nursed a fantasy that he would ask her out, especially that night he had told her to meet him at the cafeteria at night because he had something important to tell her. But she had, usually after careful reflection, continued to dismiss the thought. He was too holy for that.

“I’ll speak to Veep, then”, she said, as she walked away from him.

He looked at the clock. It would soon be time for “Praise and Worship”.

And then he could retreat.