Its A Matter Of Choice

Photos credit- Google

My first year at Ahamadu Bello University was spent mingling and reconnecting with old friends and relatives. Some I hadn’t seen since primary school, others from my secondary school (it was rare seeing people from that axis, because of the distance, Oyo state to be precise). 

It was a delight seeing AT, who was the President of the Christian Students Fellowship then. Thinking back, he is actually from the North but I didn’t expect to see him. Most of us that schooled in the West wanted to school anywhere else but the North.

It was my Dad that intervened. He asked why I didn’t want to school near home this time around, having schooled so far away.

“How many people will have the privilege of schooling an hour away from home Timbam (how he called me when he was being playful). Toh, I succumbed. 

So we talked and he told me where he lived off Campus. It was one of those informal hostels outside the school. Locating it will not be a problem. I promised to check on him one of these days. 

Grace and I were bored one evening, few weeks after the meeting and decided to stroll off Campus. We had a list of people to visit, one of them was AT.

We located the place without trouble.

Fortunately, he was around, along with his roommate (I can’t remember his name). 

We were all introduced and then started to catch up on the years. Amid the chitchat, the roommate interrupts and hands us fliers he took out from a book or bible.

There was a dinner, a fellowship dinner a week or so away and he was inviting us. “It’s dinner” he insisted and made us promise to be there. We were usually free because we didn’t have much of a social life then, asides from visiting friends and family when they were available. 

Well, we agreed to go, after all, we would be free that Saturday.

We later left and went to check on other people before going back to school. 

Then Saturday came. We got ready to attend the dinner.

We got there and ghengen!!!

There was nothing 'dinner' about the set-up. It was taking place in a lecture theatre, so there was not much they could have done to make it have a proper dinner setting.

Every lady there had a turban on her head. Every single one.

Hmmm! Red flag.

But hey... We joined the praise/worship and even prayed along with them. 

Then it was time for the message, guess what? AT’s roommate was the preacher.

Omo, he preached and preached and then, phew! The message finally ended.

Hallelujah!

He began to pray and paused to make an Altar Call.

“If you are here and yet to make Jesus Christ the Lord of your life, come out.”

We prayed and waited for the one yet to be saved to get up and go forward. There is nothing better than serving God so, I am all for 'the' better life.

“If you are yet to make Jesus the Lord of your life, please come forward.”

Ha! They should come out now. Why are they delaying? I wondered.

Then he preached a little about hell and made the call again.

“If you don’t come out now, tomorrow may be too late. You only have today, you are not promised tomorrow.”

Omo, I got tired of waiting. No one seemed to be coming out for this Altar Call, and after much time had passed, it dawned on us, Grace and I are the people expected to walk up to the preacher to answer the call. We are the only two who looked different from everyone else. The altar call got very uncomfortable. Somehow we sensed that it was 'us' he was expecting to walk out.

Our hairs were uncovered, we were looking tush and “unsaved.”

When no one came out to answer ” the call,” he had no option but to end the prayer by saying, “if you know you were shy to come out, see me after the programme.”

Grace and I looked at each other, knowing we were the cause of their distress. We both became uncomfortable afterwards and wanted to leave, but they wouldn’t let us.

They insisted we ate first. We had to avoid the embarrassment it was causing and sat down.

Shortly afterwards, they brought these humongous plates of food, which we still declined, but they insisted. To avoid another scene, we opted to share one plate.

We didn’t get to enjoy the food because our minds were no longer there. We just ate a little and left. 

Our host, the preacher, walked us out of the lecture theatre where the “dinner” was taking place and kept trying to make conversation, but we were done. Our responses were cold. He eventually went back to the gathering when we refused to confess. We both, without discussing, kept mute instead.

If only he had asked us, we would have told him we were already saved. But NO! He looked at our appearance and concluded. 

We were not sure of what to wear and chose to be decent. We looked nice and “Christian” fa. I mean, we were wearing skirts and blouses fa. Our hair was neatly packed and we only wore lipgloss (no lipstick). That was about the only make-up we wore back then. We were looking very decent as far as decent is concerned. But because our hair was not covered, we were tagged.

If only he had told us, we would have probably not gone… I don’t know, we just didn’t seem to fit in, even though we were looking like good girls.

My friend was in a different town and wanted to go to church, by all means, so he followed his cousin to his “conventional” denomination.

First of all, it took a lot to allow him into the hall. He was later advised to go to the teens' section after a long tussle. A full-grown man! When he insisted, he was let in but advised to sit at the back. He, on the other hand, sits in front when in church, so he just walked up to the front and sat down. 

Hmm! The man of God did not preach that day. He could not preach. A sinner sat in front of him and had to get saved. The moment he sighted Collins, his countenance changed. He began to fiddle with scriptures, fumbling. He couldn't preach and after a while gave up and began making the Altar Call.

“You know you are here, and you are heading to hell, you need to come out now. You are here and I am looking at you, you are seated in the front, you know I am looking at you, come out”

My guy stared right back at the preacher without flinching. The man went on and on and on but had to eventually end the service. 

See wahala!

 All he wanted was to worship with the people of God people but... In the end, it looked like it would have been better if he had stayed back at home. How can someone just possibly look at another and conclude he is headed to hell?

Unfortunately for them, he is the flashy type of guy. The kind of person that dresses to kill, glittering from head to toe, with 'fried' hair. You cannot but notice him. 

You see ba, these denominations that are quick to judge, seem not to realise that, if there was only one type of congregation, some people would never, NEVER set foot into a church.

Funny enough, if they walked into my kind of congregation, the liberal kind, no one would even bat an eyelid. No one will make them feel like 'fish out of the water'. No one will look at them strangely, but rather, be so warmly welcomed, they would feel at home instantly. 

So, why not be more tolerant of other denominations? Why treat them like a plague? I thought we were supposed to 'win' some and not drive 'all' away?

No matter how much we strive, we can’t all be in one place, there will always be something that appeals to someone. 

Let us learn to be tolerant and spread the love of God instead. Look away from my ripped jeans and face the person who needs Jesus more. I have him already. 

Make una nọ vex ooooo. Do not come for me Biko (please), I am very sleepy. In fact, let us go for evangelism.