ADVANCING IN ADVERSITY

BY

WOYOPWA SHEM

Have you ever been in tragic situation? Are you Perplexed and lost in thought? Thus,

doubting the existence of God? Is your mind flooded with questions that seem blasphemous

to the clergy? Are you at the verge of giving up or are you in a dungeon of poverty,

sicknesses and pains?

We all have stories, tragic stories that are always accompanied with oceans of tears, bags of

pains and volumes sorrows. We all have in one way or the other been whipped by the rod of

our hardship. We have become strangers in our own land, slaves in our homes, errand boys in

our offices, thugs in politics, greenhorns in business and messengers in governance. We are

gradually becoming a shadow of our past glory.

Our adversaries butchered like cows, the blood of our innocent brothers and sisters flow

through every nook and cranny of this nation like the tsunami, yet greed, selfishness and

materialism have beclouded our judgment of the reality. It has become obvious that our

Christ and Christian are not identical hence we are always equated with unbelievers.

We live in an age where doctrines are gradually replacing the scripture; a generation where

prayers have become the business of the clergy and anointing has become an expensive

commodity in the market place of spirituality. We are religious yet unrighteous; hence we

worship doctrines and protocols instead of God; we live and enjoy sin from Mondays to

Saturdays while on Sundays we all dust up our bibles and claim to be “more catholic than the

pope”. It is obvious that we have despised the ways of the Lord yet expect a touch of His

power.
It is apt and pathetic to say that we are the architect of our quandary. Our ways are as dark as

charcoal, our hearts are as polluted as “Yola Bypass” and our hands as filthy as ‘Sodom and

Gomorrah’. We are a state of perplexity and difficulty; hence our hearts travel to the West,

our feelings to the East, our conscience to the South and our minds to North.

Habitually, we visit the beautiful Sacred Room, sometimes, we read the little Holy Book,

Close my eyes and say our wishes yet ours adversities remain unalterable because our ways

are as dubious as ‘Nigerian politicians’. Outwardly, we are more catholic than the pope but

inwardly we are more hazardous than Satan. From a distance, we are replicas of a perfect

people but closely we are more dubious than gangsters.

In the midst our jigerry-pokery attitude and predicament appears a tick, dark, pregnant cloud

of revival in the atmosphere, ready to shower us with rain. Rain that would restore our lost

glory, initiate and ignite the power that exist in the days of the apostles. I am talking about the

power that healed the lame man at the beautiful gate; that same power that raised Lazarus

from the death.

The wind that will accompany that rain sings, saying, be strong and courageous, the creator

will not suffer thy foot to be moved, behold He that keeps Israel shall never sleep nor

slumber, he knows, he sees and he feels what you feel. Don’t think that the Lord is too weak

to save us or too deaf to hear our call for help but our sins made Him not to hear us.

Notwithstanding, He says that if His people who are called by His name will humble

themselves and pray and seek His face and turn from their wicked ways, the He will hear

from heaven and will forgive their sins and Heal their land. Hence, it shall come to pass that

everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved. For on mount Zion there will be

deliverance.