JIREH IS EL-ROI!

1:00pm

The storm started in an unsuspecting fashion. It was Thanksgiving Sunday, and a large horde of us poured out of the chapel building after service. That’s when we noticed the slight change in weather.

There were a just few dark clouds that hovered over the university campus, but in a way that we could still see light from the sun. There were a few rolls of thunder, but everyone felt the sky was merely throwing empty threats. The worst that would happen was a drizzle. We kept walking casually, ignoring the signs.

Oh, if we had known…

I do not know if it was the joy of the word we had heard in service, or the spill-over excitement from the intense prayer session, but one particular zealous student walking amongst the herd found it profitable to scream at the sky, ordering her to “stop making noise or do her worst”.

Brother Ejimi, why?

It was funny at first, until the sky went pitch dark in minutes. The wind began to blow wildly at us, almost as though asking us what exactly was funny. A good number of us hastened our steps, whilst a few called nature’s bluff. Laughter erupted from within us as some watched the wind blow off someone’s expensive gele and play keep away with it.

Soon, there was a flash of lightning, and a fierce thunderclap that cracked the sky open. For the first time, I was grateful I had dressed simply to church. I even had an umbrella because the weather in Ekiti had made me develop trust issues. My heart went out to my fellow siblings in Christ whose dresses withstood them from running like Elijah.

Everyone scampered like rats, including the Brother Ejimi that allegedly pissed nature off.

Maybe if we had caught and tied him to a nearby tree, the storm would cease, just like with Jonah. Who knows?

The rooftops around us began to cry out as well, bearing the full onslaught of the first wave. The wind was beyond vengeful, tearing through the campus like a mini typhoon. Everyone took shelter, running into any random building they could find. But I, Fikemi Janet Olarewaju, decided to wield my umbrella against the storm because of food.

Yes, food. Sue me.

I had fasted for two days straight and I had to eat. Nobody ever died because rain beat them, but hunger on the other hand? Hmmm.

Luckily, the cafeteria wasn’t far off. I could make it.

Brethren, in that short time, the rain assaulted me and my umbrella. I mean, I knew I said nobody ever died from getting beat by rain, but it was starting to look like it was trying.

Infact, the wind blew the umbrella from my hand some meters away from the cafeteria. Those heavy raindrops felt like tiny knocks on my head for being foolhardy. But alas, man must eat.

It was for this reason, that I now stood at the entrance of the scanty cafeteria, waiting for the rain to stop. I had gotten the food, but my mood had seriously waned. I had no appetite, and my sorrow wasn’t because of the rain. I had just been reminded of my current reality.

I took a seat at a table close to the entrance, gazing painfully into the rain. Reality was cruel. I had just spent my last card. My account was completely empty, and I had no guarantee of provision. I had nothing home and abroad, save the Five Hundred Naira change the cafeteria owed me.

I slowly pulled a jacket out of my bag and put it on, my eyes becoming glassy. I soaked in the silence for a while. My heart began to play the symphony of pain I was familiar with, along with a montage of my most daunting problems. My fees were yet to be completed. My parents were retired and had nothing. My siblings depended on me.

I smiled sadly, letting out a grieved laugh. I bit my lower lip. One minute, I’m jumping for joy in church, and making jokes with everyone. The next, I’m overwhelmed with sadness, and want to be left alone. It had been a pattern for as long as I could remember.

I hated lack. I hated that I had to do so much calculation before I got even the most basic of things. I loathed the pressure of providing for my siblings when I needed to be catered for. I tried to always be happy when people received good things, but I couldn’t deny the part of me that often wondered if God skipped my house when he came around the neighborhood.

I blew out a frustrated sigh and rested my head on the table, fixing my sad gaze on the outside view. I watched the tens of puddles on the ground outside, how the continuous rain never let them rest. It felt like I was watching my life.

Breathing got harder. The lump is my throat grew. I was no longer conscious of the time. I didn’t care about anything at the moment. I just wanted to go to my room. I even had my project to work on against the next day.

Finally, the rain softened to a drizzle. As soon as my mind registered reality, I got up. I wiped my eyes and rubbed my hands frantically. It had become extremely cold. I picked my things and headed out.

Just as I moved passed the entrance, my eyes caught a figure at the side of the door, whimpering and clutching himself for warmth against the wall.

He was a dark thin little boy. His clothes were drenched and dirty, and his body shook from the cold air. His head was bent low and his arms were tightly wrapped around his body, desperately seeking warmth.

Compassion flooded my heart. I needed to get back to my room but for some reason my feet were anchored to that spot. What was he doing here, all alone? Why didn’t he go into the cafeteria? Why didn’t I notice him since? I estimated that the boy could not be more than five years old.

I heard the thunder growl, almost threatening another round of rainfall. But my legs still wouldn’t move. A debate ensued in my heart.

The little boy sensed my presence and raised his dull eyes to meet mine. His jaw quivered. Mucous ran down his tiny nose. He sniffed it back in.

The sight pierced my heart. I removed my jacket and moved toward him. The cold air pulled me into its icy embrace the moment the jacket came off, but the feeling of compassion warmed me enough to resist it.

Lifting him up gently, I covered him with the jacket. The thick clothing nearly swallowed him whole. I took him into the cafeteria and placed him on a chair.

Taking a seat next to him, I looked at him with pity.

“Where is your mummy?” I asked softly.

The boy sniffed gently and took some time before replying.

“I-In the house…” he managed to say shakily.

“Oh, dear Lord. You should have come inside here now, ehn? Have you eaten?” I asked, gently placing my hand in his back. Till now, I do not know how and why I asked that.

He shook his head gently.

My eyes darted towards my measly pack of rice that I had planned to eat and perish. I felt God nudge her heart. I shut my eyes and let out a deflating sigh.

I pushed it closer to him and opened it. Steam rose from the pack and the smell made both our stomach’s growl. But my will to see him fed was greater than my appetite.

“Please, eat this, okay? Jesus loves you,” I said with a smile.

The little boy grasped the plastic spoon and began to eat, allowing the warm spicy food slide down his throat. His countenance began to brighten. He looked at me, his eyes asking for permission to continue eating.

“Don’t worry about me. Just eat, okay? Jesus loves you,” I said, gently rubbing his back. My heart was filled with so much love for this boy.

“My mummy use to tell me that Jesus loves us…” he said in between munches. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his palm, he sniffed and resumed eating.

I smiled warmly, tears nearly pricking my vision. I pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his nose.

“Yes. You’re mummy is right. Jesus loves you. He said I should give you this food. He loves you, okay?” I cooed.

The little boy nodded. I opened the sachet of water for him.

“My mummy is sick, can Jesus heal her?” The boy asked after gulping down some water. His tiny voice was laced with hope. His eyes rested on me, waiting for a positive response.

I felt the power of God stir up within me. I shoved the doubt in my heart and clung to faith.

“Yes, Jesus can heal her, and He will, okay? In fact, we will pray for her when I take you home.” I said reassuringly.

The boy smiled and nodded happily.

I noticed a Two Hundred Naira note sticking out of the boy’s pocket.

“Did your mummy give you this?” I asked, pointing to it. He nodded.

“My mummy said I should buy food and bring for us to eat.” He said, still focused on the food.

“How many of you?” I asked

“For the three of us. Me, her and my sister.” He said.

Tears rolled down my eyes without permission. My heart broke in two. How could Two Hundred Naira fend for three mouths? What could it afford?

I quickly wiped away the tears so he wouldn’t see and rubbed his head playfully. His attention was still on the food.

“What is your name?” She asked, her voice a bit hoarse. She cleared her throat.

“My name is Samuel…” he replied, stretching his hands for the sachet of water. I brought it to him.

“Okay, Samuel, stay here. I’m coming, okay?” I said as I took the money and got up to get food for his mum. His eyes followed me but soon returned to the meal.

“Lord, I may not be able to fend for them daily, but let me be the reason they eat tonight.” I prayed in tears.

I added the change they owed me to the money he had and got some food for them.

Closing the pack of rice and stew, I shut my eyes and rested my head on the counter. My heart was bleeding. I wished I could do more.

Summoning strength, I made my way back to the little boy, trying to force a smile.

“Take, give this to your mummy, eh? Tell her Jesus loves her too,” I said, placing the pack next to him. He smiled happily and nodded. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

I waited for him to finish eating then held his hands and prayed for him. I prophesied my heart out and spoke words over him. His tiny voice called out gentle ‘amens’ during the prayer and it made my heart warm.

Rubbing his head playfully, I told him to keep the jacket. I picked up her bible and got up to leave. The little boy jumped down from the chair and hugged my legs tight. A fresh batch of tears filled my eyes again. I bent low and pulled him into a warm embrace. He stunk a little but I didn’t care.

“Thank you, Fikemi…” I heard God whisper. I smiled, genuinely this time.

I decided to walk him home. I prayed for his mum and she was healed. I preached to them, and they received encouragement and were full of faith. I may not have had silver or gold, but that which I had, I made sure to give it.

___________

8:00pm

BACK HOME…

I sat on my bed devouring my plate of groceries and floating berries. After all, rice or garri, all na carbohydrate. My roommate kept looking at me like I had grown horns. I had narrated the ordeal to her earlier, but she just couldn’t understand.

She was wondering why I was even eating it like it was fried rice. Abi was there something special in the groceries? The look I had on was too joyful.

“So wait, wait. You gave the boy your last plate of food? Someone you don’t know? And you’re now soaking garri instead of the plate of rice? God would have understood na. Abi don’t you need to eat too?” She asked.

I smiled and looked at her. I didn’t blame her at all. I explained, preaching the gospel to her in the process as well.

There was a time even I didn’t get it either. But being able to do what I did for that boy, I saw God’s perspective. He was El-Roi to that boy. And He was Jireh through me. It meant that if I could do so much for a boy I didn’t know, how much more would God provide for me whom He has known before I was born?

I was convinced that God saw me. He was able to provide. And He would, because He was my Father, and would always be.

EL-ROI was also JIREH. If He could see me, He would provide for me.

But in the meantime, I would be full of Joy. Greater than meat and drink, is the kingdom of God. Romans 14:17 For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.

God would always know my needs, and He would never fail to meet them. But I had even greater things to rejoice over, than things to sulk over. Someone was saved. I was saved. Jesus was seen. I was used by the living God. Indeed, I was full.

#Fiction

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I find David’s Testimony to be striking.

“Many people say, “Who will show us better times?” Let your face smile on us, Lord.

(BUT) You have given me greater joy than those who have abundant harvests of grain and new wine. In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.”

Psalms 4:6-8 NLT

How much Joy does the thought of our heritage in God truly give us? Where does the free gift of God rank in your list of needs and gratitude?

Do you rejoice because you feel you have to, or because you are truly Joyful?

Can we, in the midst of contradictory circumstances, stay true to what the Word says concerning Him.

Can we be stable and in joy when things don’t go our way? Do we grumble and relent in doing good when we are not having our way?

In a world where people are faced with our own problems, it’s hard to put people first. It is hard to live for others even when you lack.

But If we believers have Love, we will give even when we know we won’t get back in return.

God gave His Son. We can’t give anything that can equate to that. Yet He still gave. Such is our example.

Help wherever you can, whoever you can. Love is sacrificial. Love takes the risk of giving when there is a possibility it will not get back. You carry the nature of Love, dear believer. Act in Love always. You’re blessed.

Philippians 4:12 I know how to be abased and live humbly in straitened circumstances, and I know also how to enjoy plenty and live in abundance. I have learned in any and all circumstances the secret of facing every situation, whether well-fed or going hungry, having a sufficiency and enough to spare or going without and being in want.

Philippians 4:13 I have strength for all things in Christ Who empowers me [I am ready for anything and equal to anything through Him Who infuses inner strength into me; I am self-sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency].

Rejoice always, and again I say, rejoice! You have overcome this world!

END

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