CWRC Anthology

HOMECOMING

© 2022 by Christine Chinyere Ezeala.

Brought to you by Christian Writers and Readers Club.

And, behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to give every man according as his work shall be.

Revelation 22:12 (KJV).

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"Don't you feel bad for Ife?" Mike, our youth leader, asked me, prompting me to shoot my eyes up to where Ifeoluwa was seated with her phone in her hands.

"Of course I do. How can I not when I once was in her position? You know my story, seeing the person who helped me so much being as I was is very painful. I've done my best to help her, but it all seems to be in vain."

"I just spoke with her and when I mentioned her dad, she started crying."
I felt tears forming and blinked them away, "I just pray she can find God soon, before it's too late, I pray we can revive the 'Ifeoluwa' (The love of God) in her heart."

A few minutes later, the announcement for praise and worship was made and I cleared my throat to sing.

Everything seemed like yesterday, when Destiny Fibikemi Ademola was brought to the same school as Ifeoluwa, my close friend.

I was very reserved as a result of the dark past that I still felt afraid of mentioning. My parents sold me to an old man when I was little to make money for themselves and my siblings.

I was only eight at the time and was not too sure of the circumstances. I became a slave to his family and was beaten up for the slightest mistakes I made. I was abused and felt there was no God.
Six to seven years later, I found a way to escape and I ran for my life, bringing me here.

I got a job at a small shop, owned by Miss Darasimi, who also happens to be the best friend to Ifeoluwa's mother.

She and her husband enrolled me in school where I first met Ife. I did not talk to anyone on my first day, but Ifeoluwa kept following me to be friends. She told me her name and her preference to be called Phoebe, a name her dad gave her. This excited me as my nickname was also Phoebe, from my middle name (Fibikemi).

For months I didn't have a good response to her, but I soon got used to her and started speaking to her. One day, after school, we remained to study for our end of term test. I noticed she had been acting strange that day and she asked me the strangest thing.

"What happened to you years back?" I furrowed my eyebrows at her question. "What do you mean?" I replied.
"Something happened to you, that is why you're like this, tell me, I want to help you," she insisted.

"No one can help me," my anger began to rise. She tried to look me in the eye, "God can, He can help you overcome this bad past of yours."

I scoffed, "there's no god, jor. If there was, I wouldn't need to have a story to tell you."

"There is a God, and I tell you, that story of yours is to bring others closer to Him. Okay, here is the address of my church, please come this Sunday."
After she left, I looked at the paper with the address.

When Sunday came, my mind was still in a dilemma but I dressed up to go anyway. When I found out that it was also miss Darasimi's church, I joined her and her husband to go.

The service went slowly and yet joyfully and Ife was there too, happy I came. After service, we went for the youth meeting and when they asked me to introduce myself, I ended up telling them my story.
They prayed for me and that day, I received Christ, they called it being 'born again'.

Ever since then, I've had this peace within me and I owe it all to Jesus.

Ifeoluwa, however, lost her dad some months later at the age of fifteen. She began to question her faith and over time, concluded that there was no God, no savior and it was all fake and if there was, He wasn't a god worth serving.

I tried and tried to convince her that she was taking the steps to the wrong road, but she refused to believe me. I've been trying, but she still refuses to believe me, even a year after that.

Today marks her dad's death anniversary and I can't help but admire her mother, Mrs. Adebisi's joy rather than sorrow.

"You are marvelous Iyee.
You are marvelous Iyee..." we sang and danced. Ife did the same thing she does every Sunday, moved a little for the sake of her mom.

She looked shocked at her mother's joy and then her mom said something that increased my joy. She said she's not celebrating her husband's one year of being dead, but of being a citizen of heaven.

When it was over, pastor Enoch started preaching, a sermon titled 'The Good News Of Salvation'. Afterwards, a call to the altar was made. Some went, I wish Ife was part of them though.

She looked at me and I smiled gesturing towards the altar, but she shook her head. I stood up and walked to her, seated beside her.

"Phoebe, I know you are hurting, I understand your pain. But please, this is the time. If you want, we can both go."

"How can I trust God, who took my dad away. In this same church, for that matter?"

"The same way I trusted Him after years of believing He didn't exist." "But, that's different." "What's different, Ife? My parents sold me, they didn't want this for me, your father wants this for you, why are you depriving him of happiness in heaven?"

I stood up and walked back to my seat, praying she made the right decision.
I heard the melodious sound from a trumpet. Soon I felt something strange, it felt like I was leaving my body.
I felt like I was floating and closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I realized I was standing in front of two large gates. They opened and a bright light showed when I focused my eyes on the light, I noticed who the light was, it was Jesus.

I am home.

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