You’ve been ignoring my calls. Is it that bad? I heard your sermon last Sunday was mainly about me.
Indeed, it’s really that bad! So bad now that I realize you’ve not even learned the most important lesson in ministry: It’s not about you, dude! It’s not about your reputation! This has nothing to do with your popularity, opinions, or ideas. You are not even like the Dalai Lama. Let’s not even talk about being like Jesus. That would be me expecting a vulture to fly like an eagle.
You have a problem with me, and now over two thousand people in three different services would have to hear you rant about me?
What exactly is my crime? What have I done? I told you about this girl long before she got you seeing visions and dreams, and made you hear words from god-knows-where about her being the right one. I told you what I knew about Bolaji; but you said she has changed. You said Jesus has wiped the past with his blood, you talked about her start on a clean slate. That was what you said: clean slate.
You said you’d mentor her, you proclaimed yourself as her spiritual father. She is now one of the church ushers, so, to your mind, she’s all cleaned up. I was happy for you; I really loved the bad-girl-gone-clean story.
I know how much you love a good story too, but life is life. It really doesn’t matter what you think. Things are what they are; so the devil would remain the devil, even if she wears an ankle-length skirt, a large hat, and turtle-neck sweaters.
You had an exaggerated impression of your power and influence, you have a very magnetic personality, no doubt about that. You thought your charisma would change that girl.
The word says, “By their fruits you shall know them”; and life says, “Love is blind”.
You were blind, my brother. I was telling you Bolaji was bad news, you just didn’t listen. You said you were taking a leap of faith. “The fruits,” you said, “may not be there, but they will soon manifest.”
Bro, that was not faith. That was wishful thinking. A week to your wedding, your babe was still at Fadash’s house party, where the guy made the whole world think he was celebrating his birthday. I warned you; I called you when I saw her driving into that den, you said she had your permission. She told you she went to preach to him and you believed her? She went to preach in a party with over a hundred barely-clothed girls and the air filled with smell of Mary J?
It is enough to agree with grace that a promiscuous man has been saved by the blood of Jesus. It is a grand display of foolishness to hastily give the same man the responsibility of following-up new converts of the opposite sex. You were foolish enough to approve her presence at that party. Bolaji loved Mary J more than anything in the world before she came to your church! That was her weakness! This is a girl that smoked that thing in her flat for three years and my cousin who was her next door neighbour had no clue.
She got hooked again because she was at that party; a lot went wrong as a result of that party. I was the one who puting my job on the line by giving you inside information. I know so much about Fadash, because of my privilege – he was under surveillance for over two years and the whole world now sees why it should be that way – so why blame me for what I know?
Your wife has been close to Fadash before and after your marriage. Was I the one who sent her to him? Was I the one compelling her to keep going to him? When your wife was jumping on the stage like a pop star last year with that dramatic sermon that has now been viewed over a million times on YouTube, I told you she was on some high grade stuff. You said I was an agent of the devil sent to destroy your home. You said, “‘Woman on Fire 2014’ was flight to a new level”, you said her sermon was a mighty move of the spirit.
I knew your wife was with Fadash at Dhobad hotel an hour before that conference. She was there, smoking skunk with him on the eleventh floor. My men saw the smoke come out through the window, my men were in a nearby suite as part of our surveillance.
Your wife drove to the conference venue from the hotel, leaving the whole church to think she was on some mountain, praying fervently.
How would you know? You were in Ghana, believing all the lies you were being fed on phone while ignoring the bitter truth I’ve been telling you even before this ill-fated marriage.
Now you want to blame me for your woes. I was the one doing things that I should not have done for the sake of our friendship, and for the sake of your position as a leader of many. I was the one telling you about secret operations of the service. I could lose my job for that, but I did it all that for you. And this is the thanks I get!
I was the one who destroyed a sex tape Fadash had recorded so that he could blackmail your wife and milk her fear for some money.
Yes, there was a sex tape when that guy was arrested. I was the one who had to watch them in a loud and clear video footage. It was shameful; that thing polluted my mind! Your ex-wife is a tiger, I tell you that for real. She would not have been able to hold a mic one more day of her life if I had not done that secret service to you.
All the complicated issues leading to the present state of things has nothing to do with me.
So, please, think deep about issues; leave that private universe you’ve been living in, and be careful the next time you want to preach a sermon about a trusted friend who is now rebellious, who had not been loyal, and had been used by the devil to destroy your marriage.
The same rain that fell on the sugar cane plant fell on the bitter kola plant.
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