Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts

Esther came back from market exhausted. She had shopped for all that she would need for the celebration, the clothes, shoes, bags and the fo...

Esther came back from market exhausted. She had shopped for all that
she would need for the celebration, the clothes, shoes, bags and the
food!

She sat to think of what had happened in the market. She had met a
lady who was "jejely" talking to her friend about people's actions
during Christmas festivities.

"Some 'Christians' celebrate the birth of Christ they do not know"
This statement surprised everyone there, including the lady's friend.
As they gave a "how-come?" look.

"Yea. I'm not mistaken" she quickly added, noticing the way people
looked at her.

She looked scared; with thoughts that a slap could come her way.

She however made things go worse with her "I'm not mistaken". She
sought to go straight to the point.
"You are sick" her friend retorted.
"No. I'm not. Just hear out my reasons."

People wondered what she wanted to say after that gibberish, how could
Christians not know Christ? They waited for her to say further,
therefore, they gave her more attention.


Esther made up her mind to deal with her because she hates it when
fools pretend to be wise. "What if an unbeliever is here? She would
have disgraced Christianity. Just say anything silly" Esther talked to
herself, looking at the lady with a stern look.

"Erm, do we even know the essence of this celebration when we
frustrate His grace upon our lives?" she added "This grace is given to
us because of His coming"

"Knowing Christ means maximizing His grace. How many Christians
maximize His grace? How many Christians know Him?"
"Hmm" that was the only thing her friend could do.

"So tell me, who is sick here? When all you could do is to sigh" the
lady teased with a wink.


Of a truth, the Word is sharper than any two-edged sword as it pierced
Esther's soul.

What is the essence of celebration when you disobey God?

Why do you celebrate the birth of the One you continually nail to
cross when you disobey His Word?

The celebration is irrelevant without obedience to God.


Check your life, are you making good use of His grace upon your life?

Don't just celebrate because others are celebrating. But because your
celebration would be accepted of Him. And how can this be possible?
Repent of all your sins as you confess them.

Live your life to please Him.
Sounding like that lady, how many Christians know Jesus by maximizing His grace?

Remember, He's the reason for the season. Do what will please Him always.

Shalom!




Oluwadamilola Funso-Adu Deborah, of The Spiritual Cosmetics Column,
wishes this esteemed reader, a MERRY CHRISTMAS

[continued from Part II. You can read part II via http://www.neloc.com.ng/2016/12/story-series-carnal-christians-ii.html ] ***** About a ...

[continued from Part II. You can read part II via
http://www.neloc.com.ng/2016/12/story-series-carnal-christians-ii.html]


*****

About a month later, another group of evangelists met Bunbie fetching
water from a well outside his house. He responded politely to their
greetings for he was surprised to see Christians that way. He loved
everything about them- they dressed decently (no cleavage-baring
outfit, moderate hairstyles and dresses), they helped him draw water
and even asked if he had other chores.

"Wow! These people are different" he said to himself.

"Thank you very much sisters" He finally broke the silence that ensued
as a result of the work.

"Thank God sir" Kate, the leader of the group replied.

Knowing their mission, he gave them a "what-do-you-want" look out of
hatred for Christianity.

"If you don't mind, can I share the Word of God with you" Kate said,
noticing Bunbie's look.

"Is the Word of God for non-Christians? We have Christians inside, you
can go in" he said pointing to the house.

"Thank you sir. But, the Word is for everybody. We can share it with
you" she replied.

"Okay, go on but don't take much of my time" he replied giving a
'go-ahead' expression.

"Thank you sir" she replied.
Kate rendered a short prayer to God before starting her message. This
prayer opened way for both the preacher and the listeners as she
prayed in the Spirit.

"Before proceeding, may I ask you this question? What is your purpose
on earth?" she asked.

"My purpose?" He asked.
"Well, my purpose is to make money, to make it in life."

"Good! I love that" she remarked. "Do you know that making it in life
depends on God alone?" she paused as she saw the expression on
Bunbie's face.

Guess what! He was intrigued. Anyway, that is the Holy Spirit at work.

"It depends on the one who created the heavens and the earth" she
continued, "How do I know this? 'Cause the one who created all things
will care for His creatures by making them prosperous. That is why He
sent His only Son Jesus Christ to die for you and I so that we can
make it to the peak and even to make it to Paradise"

"But this is only possible if we accept Him as our personal Lord and
Saviour. We must do that now as tomorrow maybe too late, 'cause of the
destruction to come upon the unrepentant..."



"Destruction? Why that?" Bunbie asked.

"Oh! Thank you for that question"
"To answer that, I would love to hear your judgement on this"
"As a parent who labours over a child, how would you feel if the child
rejects you? What would be your reaction" she asked

"I will reject and deal with him or her mercilessly" he replied with a
stern look.

"That's the destruction- rejection and dealing with the unrepentant
mercilessly. We are God's children. He invested in us. Anyone who
rejects Him, His Son and His Word will be rejected and destroyed in
hell forever."

"Hmmm!" Bunbie sighed "Okay. What next?"

"Confess Jesus as your Lord and
Saviour; and invite Him to your heart", Kate replied.
Bunbie confessed his sins, accepted Jesus as his Lord, and he was
converted. He preached the Gospel to his neighbours thereafter.

[to be continued]



Oluwadamilola Funso-Adu Deborah

It was 6:30 am on Friday. Bunbie finally rose to pray as his neighbours had woken him up from their fight fifteen minutes earlier. He had re...

It was 6:30 am on Friday. Bunbie finally rose to pray as his neighbours had woken him up from their fight fifteen minutes earlier. He had resorted to staring at the partially dark space before him since then.

It all started when Esther bumped into Eunice as she wanted to curve her way into the passage of the house, making Eunice's pot of
soup to fall off her hand.

"Oh! I'm sorry" Esther said in a mild voice.
"Are you blind!" Eunice shouted.

They gave these reactions just at the same time.
"Wait, I thought I said I was sorry"
Esther replied as she wouldn't take such from anybody not even when she was not at fault [as nobody is at fault]. "Maybe you are deaf..."
she added, but before she could finish her statement, a hot slap landed on her face which led to the fight.

As a moralist, Bunbie believed that fighting is never a way to make peace as it would in turn disturb the peace of others.

The fight would not return the soup back to its pot, nor perhaps, would it buy Esther the respect she needed. Lo and behold! everything
turned out messy.

"What is the problem with these Christians? I can't even communicate with my God" Bunbie retorted in frustration.
"I would pray when they are done. Sooner, they would say their religion betters others", he said as he rose off his feet with a loud hiss.

"Damn fake religion!"
Those were his last words as he slumped in his bed.

[to be continued]







Oluwadamilola Funso-Adu Deborah.


(This Story is a series in the Spiritual Cosmetics Segment. Please
Share and make your comments)

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One day, a man saw an old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he ...

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  pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His old Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. In spite of the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe; he looked poor and hungy. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fears can put in you. He said, "I'm here to help you, ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the way, I'm Bryan Anderson."
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid.
Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way and it never occured to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, "And think of me..."
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.
A few miles down the road, the old lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be giving so much to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.
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  Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had writted. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson..."

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“Oh, is that so? Tell Me” replied God.

“Well,” says the scientist, “we can take dirt and form it into the likeness of you and breathe life into it, thus creating man.”
“Well, that’s very interesting… Show me.”
So the scientist bends down to the earth and starts to mold the soil into the shape of a man.
“No, no, no…” interrupts God, “Get your own dirt.”
That's it all. One problem with man is our failure to recognise God even in the things that seem so insignificant. The Truth is, At every point, we may not need God, but he is necessary. Our instincts and knowledge remain wrong in all cases (even when we think wise) and so, if we forget God, there is doom...
This is a call to believe and trust God, His judgement and His spirit. Remember, the wisdom of this world is folly before his sight...
Yours in Inspiration.

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This day, Aunt Imi had me write in my lesson note:
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9:32am (Adet-Dream Life)



"The rest was history. We spoke well enough that night. Well I think the only thing I ended up thinking about him-cos I remembered so was his name. I actually choose to call him Handsome- Yes, that's his name."



3:14pm
Waking Up could really be tasking especially when it involves another "task". Adet felt a log of wood on her head. She recalled the last night-the drinks, the dance, the dinner. "At least, it was worth it," she said, nodding her head.

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Under these shades,
the shadows of the BIG TREE
Under the cover of night
Sits the aged, the un-aged
to listen and gain insights
From a book that was never read
and from a mouth that never spoke...

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We soon entered a room so small that it could barely contain the three of us. I wondered why a god would be kept in the confines of this god-forsaken cubicle...

I was sweating all over; the whole house in a bigger mess, I turned the table over and looked underneath; I still could not find it. I f...


I was sweating all over; the whole house in a bigger mess, I turned the table over and looked underneath; I still could not find it.
I fell into the waiting arms of the sofa in the living room and gazed at nowhere in particular. I wondered where I kept it and how for hours now, I had search fruitlessly for it- It was my Permanent Voters Card (PVC).


I caught you there... The bells of election are gone, the drums have been beaten, the whistles blown. 


Not wanting to cloud your minds with my thoughts or my own candidate for Presidency, I'll like to inform that I'm a liberal man. My political thoughts are just pure and even as we prepare to exercise franchise, I'll franctically advice that we remain careful and remember to vote wisely- everyone believes his choice is the best and the wisest (obviously, no man would love to call his choice a foolish one). 


If you do have political apathy, just stay indoors and pray that those without it choose the best- much more as we expect God's choice alone.
Wishing Nigeria safe elections.
P.S: My Permanent Voters card did not get missing; Rather, I just found it *confusinglywinks*

Concerned Nigerian,
© Nelson Vincent- 2015.