Yesterday, the other corp member and I moved into the accommodation we were promised. It is nice: a yellow-walled room with running water in the toilet and enough space for two, maybe three girls.
We spent the better part of yesterday trying to fit the blue carpet and pink curtains and brown hanger on the wall with the help of a few SS2 students at the end of which we were exhausted. So it was no wonder that we both fell asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow and woke up this morning around 8am. And today was sunday!
Yes, we had planned to go to church. So we got ready as fast as we could and left to find us a ‘living church’ to worship in. The only popular churches here are Roman Catholic and Anglican churches. You find them in every nook and cranny. EVERYWHERE!
The last time I was in a catholic church, I enjoyed their music so much. However, I lost track of the whole service and didn’t even know when the sermon was preached. I would later find out that it was in the bulletin and was read. It was READ!
She, too, did not want to worship there so we settled for RCCG. We trekked for about 20 minutes, decided to take ‘keke’ where we rode for like 10 minutes and then walked again for another 10 minutes, all the while seeking directions from passers by before we got to the church.
It was a very small church with about 12 adults and 9 children. They spoke Igbo. They made us stand and introduce ourselves after which we shook hands with every member. One woman who spoke like the Lord had done so much for her came out to testify, in Igbo, except for her occasional ‘praise the Lord’, ‘the Lord is good’ and ‘hallelujah’ in English.
When the time for preaching came, the pulpit was taken up by a really old lady who screamed the name of Christ so loudly I thought she was having a seizure but saw she was praying. Her sermon began with her pointing her fingers in an accusing manner at my friend o. And shouted for her to be on her feet, for she was an unbeliever and the Lord was calling for her repentance, in Igbo.
Now, I had forgotten to put on earings at home, and was on native Ankara with a blouse that had really high neck. My friend was on a white pretty flaire skirt that stood on her knees and a beautiful floral sleeveless blouse with cute pin earings to match. She was the only one with earings!
And, did I mention that these people looked like deeper lifers? Well, They did!
So, one person, because the way you look does not appeal to her, can categorically draw the conclusion that you are not born again? What has our Christianity turned to? For God’s sake, I know the things I do. I know how ‘unsaved’ I am. But she could not see my need to accept Christ. Why? I looked born again!
We did not need to say it, we are off to another church hunt next week Sunday.
I am a Nigerian graduate documenting the perks and pains of being a graduate without long leg in Nigeria; while also contributing her quota to make the world a better place. Lets be friends on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter. You'll find me there as Naijafreshgraduate.