When Sickness Came Preaching

God had been calling out to me but I always found a way to ignore Him. What did I need His attention for? I was doing well; life was so good and progressing on my own terms. I wanted to remain my own lord. It was better that way, so I could be in total control.

One of my coveted pastimes was engaging itinerant preachers in long intellectual debates. O how I frustrated them, these men who didn't know the Bible they carried as much as I did! I sent them away reeling each time and revelled in my intellectual victories over these hapless preachers.

Then, in April 1988, a strange sickness struck me. I didn't usually fall sick. I had ego; I had bravado, too. My psyche was loaded with all the ingredients a young man needs to feel larger than life. "Who do you think you are, this sickness?" I boasted. "Do you know who I am at all?"

For several days I muscled the sickness the same manner I muscled those preachers. I would pretend to be well in the morning and yield helplessly to pain in the evening. Days later, there was no ego place for me to hide anymore!

One morning, my wife took one good look at me and decided she was not going to let my hollow pretences fool her. She got me bundled onto a hospital bed. For a whole week! This woman no dey fear! Does she know who I am at all?

Then, you won't believe this, I began to cry. A whole me! I was afraid I was going to die. By this time all the bravado, all the gragra had died, remaining only my flesh, and they were beckoning it to follow suit. Na lie!

Then another preacher appeared at my hospital bed. By this time I was ready to listen to anybody, especially if they had any idea how I could get well. The preacher said Jesus could heal me. I told her without hesitation, "Take me to where He is."

"I can only do that tomorrow," she said.

Damn this preacher! I need Him today! Well, I knew how to handle her type in normal times. Right now times were anything but normal, so I played by her book.

Sunday morning found me in church with the sister. Soon the preacher made an altar call and off I went with my entire personality, education, and pride. All that became a little price to pay. I wanted to be healed, period! "You can always cultivate a new personality later," I consoled myself as I goaded my weak body on and walked defeatedly towards the altar, not looking left or right, lest someone I know say to me with their eyes, "Hey! This one too?"

Who no dey fear to die? Tell me.

The sister's prescription was magical. The sickness left, that damned sickness, and from 1988 till now, no hospital bed has seen my back. 32 solid years! And some ignorant person somewhere tells me there is no God. Go tell that to the marines!

Listen to me, when God needs your attention He will get it, whether you want to give it or not. And He does need your attention right now. Why the hell do you think He allowed COVID-19? You want Him to send you something more severe? My friend, no just go there. I didn't like mine. Even the biggest of men are grovelling on their knees right now. They don't know what to do. If they did they will do it. And don't think you're so strong. Don't imagine you're more superhuman than I was in my heydays. Don't let Him pick you from a hospital bed.

Wherever you live, wherever your location, meet me this Sunday in any good church close to you. God will be there and I will be there live, even though my body will be at the Living Faith Church at Water Resources Road, Effurun. It will be my joy to knock elbows with you since we can't shake hands just yet. I will be wearing a funny face mask, so look carefully. See you there!

Yours superhumanly, Chris.

(This testimony is culled from my book, Getting to Maximum. Take this link to my website: https://www.chrisekpekurede.com)