The Usher Whose Mouth Was Full of Worms
I saw worms crawl out of a man’s mouth while he was still alive—in church, during service, just before he died.
My name is Daniel. This happened in 2017, in my hometown. I was 19 at the time. I wasn’t anyone special, just a young guy who loved church. I cleaned the floors, packed chairs, and helped with sound sometimes. It made me feel close to God.
Our church wasn’t that big, but people loved it. It was the kind of place where neighbors came every Sunday, where sick people got healed sometimes, and where nobody questioned anything too deep—especially if it involved someone from “the top.”
One of those top people was Brother Ifeanyi.
He was an usher. Tall, always dressed sharp, and always wore white on Sundays like he was extra holy. He had this big voice that filled the church when he said things like “Praise the Lord!” or “Hallelujah!” He looked clean. He smiled a lot. People respected him. But me—I was not too sure.
Why? Because he always stayed too close to the offering box.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. I thought maybe he was just the trusted one. He would collect the offering, count it behind the altar, then take it straight to the pastor’s office. Sometimes he locked the door behind him. Nobody ever questioned it. He had been there from the beginning.
Then one Saturday evening, everything changed.
I went to the church to sweep as usual. I had the key, but when I got there, the gate was already unlocked. I thought maybe someone was inside for night prayers. I walked in slowly, not wanting to disturb anyone.
Then I heard paper rustling. I looked through the crack in the pastor’s office door—and I froze.
It was Brother Ifeanyi. He was sitting on the chair, counting a fat bundle of offering money. Then I saw him take some of the notes—maybe about five thousand naira or more—and fold them quickly. He looked around, then bent down and stuffed them into his socks.
I couldn’t move.
I stepped back slowly and left without finishing my sweeping. That night, my heart beat so fast I thought I was going to faint. I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t. I was just a church cleaner. He was a leader. Who would believe me?
I prayed. That night, I knelt by my bed and said, “God, I saw something I don’t know how to handle. But You saw it too. If it’s wrong, deal with it. But please, don’t let it fall on me.”
I didn’t know God was going to answer so fast.
The next day was Sunday. A thanksgiving service. People came in their best clothes, women with colorful head ties, kids in new shoes, drums beating hard. It was the kind of service where people danced to the front to drop offering—singing, clapping, celebrating.
As usual, Brother Ifeanyi stood beside the offering basket. He was smiling, but something looked off. He was sweating—even though the fan was blowing right on him. He kept shifting on his feet, blinking fast. I noticed because I was watching him closely.
After the offering, he took the basket and disappeared behind the pulpit for a few minutes. Then he came back and stood like nothing happened.
The pastor had just opened his Bible to preach when everything went wrong.
Brother Ifeanyi suddenly dropped to his knees and held his stomach. His face twisted. He let out a scream that shook the whole church. It wasn’t a normal cry. It was like something was tearing him from the inside.
He started rolling on the floor, shouting, “Hot! It’s hot! My stomach! Help me!”
People rushed to him. Some shouted, “Pray!” Others tried to hold him still. But then, right in front of the altar—he began to cough. Hard. Like he was trying to bring something up.
And then we saw it.
A fat white worm slid out of his mouth.
People screamed. One of the choir girls fainted. A woman grabbed her children and ran out of the church. I just stood there. My legs were frozen.
Then he vomited—and more worms came out. Live ones. Moving.
He was choking, crying, and coughing at the same time. The whole place smelled like something rotten. His eyes were wide, full of terror. Then, in between gasps, he said something I’ll never forget:
“I’m sorry… I didn’t know it was holy… I thought nobody saw me…”
And then he collapsed.
They carried him to the church van and drove him to the nearest hospital. But before they got there, he died.
That same week, on Wednesday service, the pastor spoke.
He looked tired. He didn’t shout. He just said calmly, “For six months now, our offering has been short. I didn’t want to accuse anyone, so I prayed. I said, ‘God, expose the thief Yourself.’ I didn’t expect it like this.”
Then he paused and said, “Nobody may have seen what he was doing. But God sees everything. Especially when you touch what belongs to Him.”
No one clapped. No one said anything. We all just sat there, quiet. The atmosphere was cold. Different.
After that, they removed the old offering box and got a new one that was locked with chains. Two people were now assigned to count the offering. Brother Ifeanyi’s name was never mentioned again. Nobody preached about him. It was like he never existed.
But I remember.
I remember the worms.
I remember his voice when he said he didn’t know the money was holy.
I remember the way his body jerked before he stopped breathing.
Since that day, I’ve never played with offering money. I don’t even pick coins from the church floor if I find them. I don’t joke with anything that belongs to God. I don’t question when people say, “Leave it for the Lord.” Because I know what I saw.
God is patient, yes. But when He decides to expose evil, it doesn’t matter if you’re a pastor, usher, or king—you will be exposed.
Even if nobody saw you, He did.