“Would you like to come to my church?” asked her boss on her first day.
Phoebe paused. She knew better than to refuse her boss on the first day, if ever. And Honey was as her name described – a married, pious woman who frowned on swearing, and upheld the highest code of moral conduct. Of course, she was also kind and sweet. It wouldn’t hurt to go to church, would it?
“Sure.”
“Great. I’ve got to leave early today, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask me, all right?”
Phoebe nodded, and watched Honey leave with the CEO. She was an important woman, full of business and meetings, and this one had to be important if they were leaving so late, at the very last minute, in the day. She knew better than to question her boss, and after all, she would meet Honey again that Sunday at church.
And it was another side of Honey that Phoebe saw. She prayed so powerfully, her delicate voice throbbing with power. As the chanting of tongues swelled to a crescendo around her, Honey fell to the floor with a dramatic thud. Phoebe rushed to her aid, but there were already helpers who laid a cloth on her.
Honey would later explain that she was slain by the Spirit, and that she was truly blessed to have been so filled that way. Phoebe nodded, even as Honey knelt down beside her in the pew. How blessed was she to have such a prayer warrior next to her!
She learned much from Honey. That you could be a faithful servant but still be firm and insistent on what you wanted in the office. That it was all right to do what everyone thought was wrong, as long as you believed you were right – after all, the Apostles were thrown into jail, weren’t they? Everyone thought what they were doing was wrong, and only they knew what they were doing was right.
Sometimes Phoebe wished that Honey would have more time for her, to finish teaching her all that she knew. But she always had to leave urgently, and suddenly with the CEO. Phoebe knew better than to question what her boss did, and if it was good for the company, it would be good for her salary. So she learnt not to question so much.
“But you didn’t fulfill the final part of the contract. I wanted 720 copies, not 710.”
“That doesn’t mean you cut my payment by 75%!”
“OK. Should I withhold all of it then?”
“What about all the work I’ve done prior to this?”
Phoebe marvelled at Honey’s negotiating skills. What sharpness! What boldness! What ingenuity!
“You didn’t specify your payment terms. Also, your failure to produce the quantity specified caused my event to fail. Tell you what, I’ll pay you 25%, minus the cost of my event, since it was your actions that caused it to fail.”
“No!”
“Would you rather lose your whole payment, or keep part of it at least?”
The slightest tinge of doubt crept into Phoebe as she prayed that Sunday, next to Honey. But how could someone as prayerful as her do anything wrong? She had such confidence in her actions. That confidence must have come from her faith.
And it was such powerful faith! Honey fell to the ground once more, having been slain by the Spirit, everyone said. She got up just in time for their Bible Study that afternoon, where she led with such aplomb and finesse.
The weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years. Not only had Phoebe’s faith grown in church, but so did her position in the office. Wherever Honey went, Phoebe was there to back her up. Whatever doubt she had before had now grown into a large, nagging feeling. A feeling that she prayed faithfully, as she knelt by the pew, for God to remove. She was doing so well – surely He wanted her in that place. She had to pray harder, defend herself against the spiritual attack.
One day, Phoebe came across a large, ominous brown envelope on the table. As she returned it to its rightful position, a document slid out.
It was about her termination.
Honey had been taking credit for all her work, and it was justification that Phoebe should be terminated and her salary added to Honey’s. Phoebe looked on in horror as all her projects, all her effort had been attributed to Honey.
Phoebe kept silent, but seethed that Sunday behind the pew. Honey showed no sign of betrayal, nothing that would have drawn Phoebe’s suspicion. The respect was gone, and then Honey threw up.
The doctor told them that Honey was pregnant.
When the CEO found out, he threw a fit. His plans didn’t include Honey having a baby. How could she have been so careless? He told her, he had told her many times to be prepared, that such things could happen at any time.
When her pastor found out, he threw a fit. Her husband was impotent. How could she have been so careless? She must get a paternity test. She must find the true father and confess.
Phoebe consoled Honey, and told her she knew everything, with a knowing smile. There was nothing she could do to salvage the situation. Perhaps going on to her final reward would be the best thing to do. It could look like an accident. Would she rather lose her whole pride, or keep part of it at least?
They found Honey’s body the next day. She had forgotten to turn off the gas stove in her despair.
Her church, her company mourned.
Behind the pew, Phoebe prayed and gave thanks. She was a prayer warrior now. She even had a minion to do her work for her. The large, nagging feeling was gone. She even managed to negotiate a free funeral service – after all, it must have been the pastor’s fault that Honey was so distraught she left the kitchen stove on. He had inadvertently caused her death with his lecturing. He wouldn’t dare charge her money for the funeral.
“Would you like to come to church with me?” asked Phoebe, on her minion’s first day.
Phoebe watched her minion pause, and entertain the idea of rejecting her offer. Of course she knew that such a question could not be turned down, not on the first day, and waited for her minion to come to the same conclusion.
“Excellent then. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to attend a meeting with the CEO.”
Phoebe took her things and left with the CEO.
She wouldn’t be careless.
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