He was tagged vagabond and hypocrite.
Joju struggled with almost everything in life. He was an average student during his secondary school days,he lost his father as a young child.
He came from a polygamous background, a house where every wife had to fight and fend for her own child. His own mother was the seventh wife out of nine wives. Joju was the 13th child of the family, the 3rd child of his own mother.
He came from a fetish family, his grandfather was the chief head of the masquerade group. Every masquerade most bow in their compound before dancing. They were all given birth to and initiated into that lifestyle. They were all illiterate except for one of his uncle, his father’s younger brother. “Baba eko”, whom was the only graduate, the family had, plus he was a Baptist member and pastor. Baba eko never partook in any of their rituals and idols worshipping. They distanced from him, because he wouldn’t join them in their fetish belief.
When Joju finished secondary school, he was given an option of learning blacksmith or becoming a farmer. He said no, he wanted more. He believed, he had dreams, he was far beyond their domain. He got admission into the university, none of his siblings or family members were willing to help, they told him he would fail. He went to seek his uncle in Lagos, Baba Eko helped, he gave him some funds. He went to school. It wasn’t easy, through thick and thin, through hungry days, many days of scouting with different friends, doing manial jobs on campus. Poverty was his emblem,he was poorer than a church rat, he had less than two clothes, he wore them like uniform. It was too bad. Despite the adversities, he seeked God, became a believer, attending one of the modern doctrinated pentecostal church.He managed through it with the help of his uncle, Baba Eko.He spent four years to get a degree looking like a beggar on campus.
After University, Joju expected things to get better, it became worse. His uncle now left him to his faith. That was his last bus stop of help. He needed another helper. Help was not forth coming. Days turned to weeks, weeks became months, months to year.
He stayed 15 months, without a job. He was so wretched, he was feeding on alms, washing people’s clothes and clearing bushes to survive. He came of age but marriage was not even an option for a man soaked in penury. By the 16th months of his unemployment, he was given a bike to ride and pay back on installmental basis. HD rode motorcyclists on the street of Lagos until he was robbed of the bike. He had to pay the debt. He became a gatekeeper to a wealthy man. He worked as a gatekeeper for 3 years until he was sacked,for disrespect for the boss children.
He continued to strive, everything he did failed, nothing worked for him. There was no single fulfillment. He dwelt in the rheme of fustrations and oppression. His siblings at home advised him to get back to the village, they were doing better than him. They didn’t have much but they ate at will and that was more than enough for them. Problems upon problems, Principalities upon adversities. He slept in police cell couple of times for unpaid loans, he became bankrupt. Life wasn’t fare to him. He gave up. There was no reason to live. Shame wouldn’t make him go back to his kindred. He wanted to commit suicide.
A pastor came to his rescue, he told him, believers are not supposed to think of suicide. How can you be a believer and carry such thoughts in your heart. He wept, he would be thirty five in a week and he didn’t even have a planned life, all his dreams and visions ceased.If a man can stay with a dead god for days and they call him “ikeji orisa” meaning “the other half of gods”, how much more, those that worship in the presence of the living God. The pastor led him to Christ again, it was a fresh birth. Joju got the holy spirit, he joined an online Christian platform. He began to speak in tongues. He prayed into the nights, holding vigils and beseeching God. He slept off while praying. He dreamt.
In his dream, he saw the altar of the masquerade in his village break. He was shone a new altar, that was his spiritual mantle to communicate God.
For every believer ,there should be a meeting point. A place where battles are won and spiritual meetings are held.
He woke up, the next morning,Joju was called from his village. They summoned him, his pastor warned him against going.
That same week, he got a job in the banking industry,he worked for five years. At forty, he started his own firm. Today he’s an employer of labour. He’s blessed with a beautiful wife and two children.
When a man has spiritual issues, he’s referred back to his altar.
It is better to erect an altar of righteousness.The altar owns divinity.
Altars regulate the affairs of men.
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Many are Chriatians by mere words and doings but do not have altars of intercession. They dont have a prayer life which is God’s communication network.
It is not just about having a phone, a simcard and a fully charged battery. You must dial codes before calls can go through.
Raise your altar.
Martins A.F Adedeji
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