As I was saying …
Such were some days when the tyranny of unfulfilled dreams crippled your creative juice, and you remain emotionally and psychologically drained for days, hoping for the dawn not to show up. When you inexplicably get dog-tired, without participating in any exertions…wishing your heart should just stop somewhere in the Lagos traffic.
When all appeared dim, I would not know where I got the energy not to give in fully to despair, or run out and look for salvation in other means and powers…it was so easy to make money without quibbling about faith or niceties of steadfastness; or the dignified distance from sleaze of influence-peddling and professional blackmail. And more importantly, I kept assuring my children, to hold on, to watch carefully and patiently, and know that God answers prayers… I didn’t know what would happen…but I knew something must happen…and I was just praying that my boast of God, in the face of mounting depression… in the presence of my children, would not blow up on my face.
Not only would I have completed my faith-tripping in gigantic failure; but I would have invariably dragged my children millions of kilometers far away from God, and any hope of spiritual communion.
But my hope was based on a very simple premise: that if in all our tribulations, the children were made active wide-eyed witnesses of our battles to overwhelm all our challenges; with nothing more fantastic than prayers, fasting, honest lifestyle and an unshakeable trust in God. And that if, by the special grace of God, our circumstances improved remarkably - and they were also there to witness it - then, we will not need to preach long sermons before they are fully persuaded about who is the God of their parents. They will look up to the same God, and teach their own children to do likewise.
It was so simple; yet heart-breaking, as months rolled on one another and our situation stubbornly remained the same. But God is faithful.
Sometimes, it would appear God was not interested in our case; our efforts to serve or to remain on the straight line might seem inadequate or unappreciated; but the end of the story would almost always reveal that God is truly faithful.
Today, our children do not need us to tell them to pray or fast before their exams; they were witnesses. Now, they put their own faith to the test: and God has not failed them.
Have you learnt anything so far from this? Do you want to share your own story? Your story may encourage me to share more, and grow further. I want to read from you…Katchya.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
WHEN LAUGHTER IS CRUEL
Sometimes, you may be confused. Disillusioned. Bitterly disappointed. I was, intermittently. After all I was human. All the Bible simply says is that I shall not be tempted beyond my endurance…but nobody was there to gauge how I was measuring up in dealing with my temptation?
When, sometimes, the way appeared blurred; when I saw people I had trained, or who once were employed in my own company driving the best cars, buying lands and building nice houses; strutting across TV stages, co-mingling with the high and mighty: the sheer force of my predicament would cloud my vision, and I would somewhat swat tears from my face…but I never gave up on God, and my abilities.
Somehow, I did not scavenge for foods at dustbins; I did not shy away from driving my weather-beaten bus (the only vehicle available at one point) in the same traffic where my rich friends could see me, and possibly laugh. I remember going to receive a major award (which I helped to found, years earlier, in my bus, with all my family inside). Because they would not be seen in apparels less befitting, I was persuaded to go alone (usually, I enjoy attending events with my wife, and if possible, with the children in tow.) But I went in alone; collected the award (special recognition for contributions to Nigerian entertainment).
I stood there, as my citation was being read, looking at the happy faces of revelers, and hustling army of award organizers, and almost chuckled aloud at the emptiness of the whole charade. There I was standing to be recognized, and celebrated. Briefly being thrust into the limelight again, and no one in the hall asked where I had been in the past three years; what was I doing to survive; what about my wife and children; what happened to all the glimmer and glamour?
Everybody was too occupied living the life of fame and prosperity; everyone was too busy enjoying the day to spoil it all by hazarding to know what was going on in my life. But for that five minutes, I was given the necessary applause and thumps-up.
I reasoned later that it was not that they did not care; it is simply that they did not expect me to see them more than what they really were: show-biz friends and paddies. If I wanted more than that, I should definitely deserve what I was going through. I learnt, on that stage, that even those who were bestowing the honour on me cannot be blamed if I went home hungry; I had chosen the path I preferred, and they would not be bothered as I faced the consequence of a non-conformist lifestyle. How can you blame such reasoning? After all, your life is your canoe; you may choose to paddle backward or forward. I had chosen. And I had to stick to it. So, I left the hall, knowing that I would sleep without food that night. Katchya.
Sometimes, you may be confused. Disillusioned. Bitterly disappointed. I was, intermittently. After all I was human. All the Bible simply says is that I shall not be tempted beyond my endurance…but nobody was there to gauge how I was measuring up in dealing with my temptation?
When, sometimes, the way appeared blurred; when I saw people I had trained, or who once were employed in my own company driving the best cars, buying lands and building nice houses; strutting across TV stages, co-mingling with the high and mighty: the sheer force of my predicament would cloud my vision, and I would somewhat swat tears from my face…but I never gave up on God, and my abilities.
Somehow, I did not scavenge for foods at dustbins; I did not shy away from driving my weather-beaten bus (the only vehicle available at one point) in the same traffic where my rich friends could see me, and possibly laugh. I remember going to receive a major award (which I helped to found, years earlier, in my bus, with all my family inside). Because they would not be seen in apparels less befitting, I was persuaded to go alone (usually, I enjoy attending events with my wife, and if possible, with the children in tow.) But I went in alone; collected the award (special recognition for contributions to Nigerian entertainment).
I stood there, as my citation was being read, looking at the happy faces of revelers, and hustling army of award organizers, and almost chuckled aloud at the emptiness of the whole charade. There I was standing to be recognized, and celebrated. Briefly being thrust into the limelight again, and no one in the hall asked where I had been in the past three years; what was I doing to survive; what about my wife and children; what happened to all the glimmer and glamour?
Everybody was too occupied living the life of fame and prosperity; everyone was too busy enjoying the day to spoil it all by hazarding to know what was going on in my life. But for that five minutes, I was given the necessary applause and thumps-up.
I reasoned later that it was not that they did not care; it is simply that they did not expect me to see them more than what they really were: show-biz friends and paddies. If I wanted more than that, I should definitely deserve what I was going through. I learnt, on that stage, that even those who were bestowing the honour on me cannot be blamed if I went home hungry; I had chosen the path I preferred, and they would not be bothered as I faced the consequence of a non-conformist lifestyle. How can you blame such reasoning? After all, your life is your canoe; you may choose to paddle backward or forward. I had chosen. And I had to stick to it. So, I left the hall, knowing that I would sleep without food that night. Katchya.
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