… for had they known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.

There are only a few movies I can sit down to watch more than once, and only one have I ever seen twice in a cinema… and yes you guessed right, it’s Black Panther!!! As I am a man of little words, I won’t go into every detail of how awesome I think the movie is, or the shenanigans that meant I had to see it a second time 😁. But having said that, my favourite scene from the movie has to be Killmonger making a mockery of the hapless and helpless T’challa, and condemning him to the abyss… “is this your king?” he bellowed as he crushed him to death, shattering the hopes of the onlooking Wakandans.

So much as I loved this scene, I never thought much of it until today as I remember a similar scene played out many years ago… helpless, he was mocked to death – stripped naked, dressed in a scarlet robe, with a crown of thorns and a staff, they knelt and mocked him “hail the king”, then spat on him and beat him silly. Then as they crucified him, they wrote boldly above his head for all to see THIS IS JESUS, THE KING OF THE JEWS!!! “He saved others, but he can’t save himself! He’s the king of Israel!” Is this your king?, they meant to say to everyone that ever believed in him… He was condemned to the tomb and sealed away with a large stone. Good riddance! They thought.

But On The Third Day!!! Oh my! On the third day, Jesus TUNRED UP!!! And this here is why Easter has always been my favourite part of the year. While I love Christmas so much, all the ceremony and the more significant celebration of the greatest gift ever given to men, nothing compares to Easter… for on the third day, Jesus rose from the dead – and there is the singular most significant event in the history of humankind! He rose from dead, (trust me, this was way more cool than T’chala coming back 😉) and now he lives forever… in my heart, and hopefully in yours too…

I reckon as you go through life, sometimes it feels like you’re being asked “Is This Your King” as you feel helpless and it seems nothing is going according to plan. As you enjoy the long holidays and celebrate Easter this year, I just want to remind you – he rose on the third day… and that he did, just for you…

And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you .

Happy Easter, friends!!!

I was ready
You were ready
We’ve waited all our shared lives for this
Everything clicked
And everyone ticked
We were meant to be
At least that’s what they all said

Then it happened
The inevitable
Though the signs were crystal clear
Signaling an end that was to come
But we’ve pulled through one time too many
It was a long time coming
Yet it was sudden

As I wait at the altar
Tick tock time fades away
Hearts broken
Worlds shattered
Hopes dashed
Reality dawns
My worst fear made manifest
She walked away

The memories linger
Beautiful moments we shared
Thoughts of you still flood my mind
We had the time of our lives
It was beautiful
But it was nothing

It wasn’t you, no it wasn’t you
You were perfect in your own way
You had it all, and I had all of you
I could never have asked for more
We had the future in our grasp
Or so I thought

I thought it would be different this time
I thought I was ready to trust you once again
I thought my love was blind
But you blinked for a moment and I was gone forever
Never to return again
It wasn’t you, it’s me

There is a fire in my heart

The flame glows at every thought of you

Bright sparks accompanying each sight of you

There is a fire in my heart 

Burning deep of love for you
But day after day

All you do is rain cold ice

In little drops after little drops

With words of distrust and dubiety

Every flicker dampened by your deeds and misdeeds

Now it’s all chilly and icy 
There was a fire in my heart

But now it’s all ice and cold

The feelings dead and frozen

This will never be business as usual

The flame is quenched 

And the glow is gone forever 

It’s all down to zero degrees 
But as I watch the ice drop in torrents

On this cold Monday morning 

I see it is yet business as usual

As men go about their daily bread

Despising the cold and weather 

So be it zero degrees or not

A man got to do what a man got to do

I move on – to set a new fire

So much has been said about doctors and pastors in the Nigerian cyberspace, but one common denominator I have observed is that they are both equally privately loved as much as they are publicly harangued. You need only to stay on Twitter or Facebook for a few minutes before you see people berate organised religion, malign one pastor for his wealth or abuse another for not being socially correct, denigrate one church for her archaic views and practises… and the list goes on; but never ends without a quick mention of how incompetent Nigerian doctors are, how they are selfish and only go on strike because of salaries, etc. This is now a recurring phenomenon that we have come to live with, and is in no way the object of my interest today. 

Having lived as a Christian for at least two decades, and practised medicine for about three years, including one year in a rural Southwestern Nigerian community, I have made certain observations as well as had a few encounters that ofttimes leave me curious, and it’s as a result of this curiosity that I ask this simple question: who is the bigger god, the pastor or the doctor? In fact, is the doctor really a god as I’ve once asserted? Stay with me.

Funny scenario: I once knew this young man, about 20 years of age, I think, who having had some challenges furthering his formal education, heeded the Lord’s call and went into full time ministry – now the validity of that call is beyond the scope of this article. LOL. I’d rather leave such discourse for the skeptics and agnostics amongst my readers. I must confess I was more than befuddled, and at the same time equally amused when I saw how he was revered by the elderly, especially women, in the church. He was no longer that boy seeking admission a few months ago, he was now “our pastor”. To tell you the truth, the English language will fail me to appropriately describe how this was communicated to me by one of the women in the ever genuflecting manner characteristic of Yoruba women. My young friend is now a pastor, a shepherd with his own flock. He is now a man of God; officially, a god to many men. Did I hear someone say I was jealous? Nope… far from it. 

On the flipside, one of my friends graduated as a medical doctor, with a licence to practice medicine at the prime age of 21 – one of the few lucky, howbeit brilliant ones, I must note. Unfortunately, it was not unusual for patients to refuse to see him at the hospital, but rather ask to see the “real doctor”… he’s considered too young to be a doctor – too bad!  Whilst I’ve not been as unfortunate as he was, I cannot deny that I’ve had times, in spite of my gradually greying hair, that some people have stupidly asked to see “the doctor” after I had attended to them. I mean,  who did they think I was? The receptionist?!? Oh now you want to conclude that I’m definitely jealous of my young Pastor friend eh? Nope… Still far from it. I’ve come a long way in this practice… LOL… Please don’t quote that anywhere – I’ve not even started yet. 

Nonetheless, I cannot deny that I’ve had my fair share of adulation and veneration from people old enough to be my grandmother, simply because I happen to be the doctor on duty – and many a doctor would attest to this. Personally, it’s one of the very shuddering feelings I encounter, and to tell you the truth, I find it really scary sometimes. It did make me wish I was back to those Lagos patients that don’t give a hoot about your being their doctor or whatsoever. LOL. 

Whilst, the pastor usually gets the gifts after the doctor’s intervention to save the patient’s life, one cannot but mention the few occasions when patients have superfluously treated their doctors well. But having described the foregoing, the question remains: who is the bigger god, the doctor or the pastor? 

In this curiosity, I once asked my mum what her thoughts were on this particular matter and she was generous to elucidate why the pastor, however young, is at least a little bit more revered – “the mantle on his life”, she called it. 

But then, I am left bewildered when I recall my personal experience with a 60year old pastor who was always genuflecting in my consulting room for the few months I was practicing in the village, and who whenever I walk past his house (which happens to be the church), never for once failed to leave whoever he was with or whatever he was doing, just to greet his doctor. I mean! A pastor, the shepherd of the flock, does all that, for this ordinary young doctor!

Now you tell me who’s the bigger god…