THE EVANGELIST… PART 5

© Temi Akintade

The boy died on the third day. Even after begging God and making a vow to him that I will never allow my weakness to override me he still didn't pay heed to my cries. The people around me saw me as a failure. Even the missionaries I was staying with couldn't look me in the face and the news spread like wildfire. I wasn't given a space to preach in church like I normally was given. And I was asked to step down from the minister's stand and sit in the congregation like the other church members. I was angry, hurt and I was determined to pack my bags and go back to Benue state. Even though Dimeji had already married his wife, I was going to put up with him until I begin to fend for myself again. That night, before I slept, my brother called me. When I saw his call, I knew that he must have had a dream.

"What is it?" I was angry. I didn't even allow him land.

"Calm down now bros. Mum asked after you but I told her that you were fine."

"Is that why you called me? Because I know that mum is fine. We spoke recently."

I heard him sigh. "I had another dream this afternoon when I was trying to doze off. I saw that you were packing your bags to leave Kaduna but there was no bus waiting to pick you. Then unheard a voice say, tell him to go back. It's not yet time to leave yet."

Tears filled my eyes. I was frustrated. Why would God still keep me here amongst illiterate people and people who do not even care about me? I ended the call with Chinedu and strolled out of the house that evening the way I normally did whenever I wanted to speak to God.

"Father, why don't you just use my brother instead of me? At least you speak to him more through dreams but I barely even hear you."

There was silence and I was frustrated. If God wants me to stay back in Kaduna then he has to speak to me and he has to begin by letting me know why that boy died. Angry, I marched off to sit beneath an oak tree overlooking a small river. Some little teenage boys were bathing naked in the murky river. They could get lice or bacterial infection from bathing in that water but I was too tired to spend my time lecturing the boys. So I brought out my King James Bible and started to read the book of Jonah. I was currently studying the book of Jonah for that week and so I concluded it that evening even though the sun was beginning to go down.

Why didn't God kill the people of Nineveh? I asked no one in particular. And almost immediately, it was as if there was someone in my head who answered because I got an understanding almost immediately. The people of Nineveh we're not killed because Jonah got there in time to preach to them to turn from their sins.

Then it occurred to me! My eyes opened! Could it be that the boy had died as a result of my negligence? Could it be that I am not doing my spiritual duty well enough? Could it be that I have not been carrying out the instruction God has sent him to carry out since I came? Was that the reason the boy died?

If so many destinies were tied to Jonah that means so many lives in this small town were tired to mine. Then I understood well, that I have not been doing my work as an evangelist! The boy who died was a precious soul that was lost to physical death! How much more those souls who are tied to me, who may soon die a spiritual death if I refuse to do my work.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. "Have mercy Lord! I haven't been carrying out my assignment. I was supposed to spread your word from place to place not sit in a church like I was some pastor. Have mercy on me."

For the remaining days that followed, I began to find solace beneath the oak tree. I would sit and study the Bible for hours, then I would pray until my head begins to ache. Then by the end of the week, on one of my meetings, after fasting for the whole day, the Holy Spirit gave me an instruction to organize a football match for the young boys and girls of the community beside the river. And before the match, I should teach them his word, and afterward, the match can come up.

"But there is no money to execute this instruction, Lord. Could you please provide?"

I didn't hear the Holy Spirit again. So that evening, I decided to source fund myself. I went to the church I attended and met with the pastor. I discussed my ideas with and he said;

"Evangelist. The church is very broke at the moment. See, we are trying to mend the roof of the church before the rain comes. And it cost a lot to mend it. Maybe you can shift your idea to next year. At least before then, we would have sourced for funds for you."

Disappointed, I left the church. It was when I started walking out of the church premises that the Holy Spirit told me.

'I never asked you to ask for help. It is my work, I will provide.'

I sighed and held onto that word even though I tried to wonder about how the money would be raised. I got home still thinking about how poor the church is when the missionaries I was staying with, came to sit with me in the sitting room. The man's wife suddenly dropped to her knees weeping.

I sat up. I was confused because I haven't seen her cry ever since I came. She was a strong woman and I have never known her to be a cry baby. "What's wrong?"

The man- Dauda shook his head and said. "We kept this sum of seventy thousand naira for our upkeep and other things around the house since the church hardly sends money to us."

I felt sorry for them. Missionaries and men of God we're suffering. How could they be attending to the mental, spiritual, financial, and physical needs of these people and yet still be living in penury?

"So this afternoon, while we were worshipping. We both heard the Holy Spirit telling us to give you the whole money in our savings." He handed over a brown envelope to me and my jaw dropped open.

"This is our last money. Only God knows how we will feed. That is why I'm crying." His wife said.

I had the urge in my Spirit to pray for them and I did. At the end of the prayers, I was led to tell them that, "By this time next year, you will carry your own set of twins."

Only the woman said amen. The man simply laughed.

"Why did you laugh sir?"

"I have a low sperm count. And the doctor recently told me that I can never father a child."

"But you are a missionary aren't you? You know the Bible isn't it?"

He nodded. "I know that God does miracles but I have never seen any of such miracles in my lifetime. I'm in my mid-50s and my wife has passed the age of menopause. She is 45 years old. Carrying a child looks impossible."

I smiled. "You will see this testimony, you will carry it and also live with it. just give God time. He will settle you. Everything he does is for a purposeful appointed time."

We later began to talk about the football match. We talked about printing flyers and banners for the event, while his wife suggested the kind of food to be cooked for that day.

A few days later, after the flyers and banners have been printed and distributed, I went on three days of fasting and prayer. On the final day, I had just returned from the place I normally sat by the river. I got home and met the kitchen empty. The pot was empty, the bucket that housed our garri (cassava flakes) was empty. I became frustrated.

I was hungry and angry.

"Is this how you go hungry in this place?" I sat with the missionaries in the living room.

The wife spoke first. "Yes. We have gone on hunger strike for three days until God sent someone to is from outside the town. She was a businesswoman who said God directed her to this town and to all the missionaries in this town to feed us for a month."

"Really?" I couldn't hide my surprise. I marveled at the fact that God could send a person and the person could listen.

"Yes. That month was the first month ever since our twenty-five years of marriage that we had a bag of rice and a variety of food in our kitchen. But ever since the woman left, there has been none like her."

I was hurt. We had many wealthy Christians not just in Kaduna who were living fine yet none of them have been able to remember the missionaries who have been sent into the interior to preach the gospel! My stomach groaned reminding me of my hungry state.

"Don't worry God will raise kingdom financiers who would not just take care of the missionaries and those called by God, but they will also use their wealth to finance the gospel."

I strolled out of the house and brought out my phone. I took brief pictures of the town where I stayed, took pictures of some of the missionaries' children who couldn't afford to go to school or feed well. Then I put them up on Facebook. Then I wrote a long message about giving and attached my account number. Then I posted it on Facebook.

I shook my head and told God, 'father whoever needs to hear you for my sake this evening. Father open their ears to hear! And nothing will stop them from bringing all that belongs to me in the name of Jesus Christ.

I turned off my data and was still thinking of what to eat when our pastor's wife dropped by. She was holding a large flask when she alighted from her husband's Toyota Camry.

"Evangelist. Good evening sir." She ordered her kids to take some foodstuffs from the booth of the car and into the house I shared with the missionaries.

"Good evening ma. Where is Pastor! This is a surprised visit o!" I laughed.

The missionaries came out at this point. They exchanged pleasantries with her too.

"I was cooking dinner when I had a prompting to bring you food and foodstuff. I also had the leading to give the missionaries some money as well." She presented the money to them and gave me the food flask.

By the time she left, the missionaries counted the money and realized that the money had amounted to, a hundred thousand naira. It was more than the money the missionary's wife gave me as a seed. They danced for joy, thanking God for reminding them.

It was later that night I realized that when we put our trust in him without having any option, he will always show up. And for the first time since I came to Kaduna as an evangelist, I slept like a baby.