ACTIVATION TIME

The golden sword swayed back and forth… its tip stuck in the rock… on the summit of Mt. Morr… No

one could retrieve it except the Chosen One… the winds bore whispers that the hordes were gathering … the dark winds would soon be on the Valleys of Morr… This was the last of the Morran Empire to be taken by the dark hordes…

For centuries the dark hordes had raided the first six Empires of Morr and pillaged it. Many Morrans had been taken captive and were now slaves for the hordes… building fortresses and strengthening the awe of the hordes. 

The Hordes had laid siege against Morr for over a decade and there was no telling what would become of earth once the Hordes took over Morr… maybe a cataclysm… maybe Armageddon… maybe the skies would turn red and the sun would bleed… No one knew for certain… but there was a prophecy that a messiah would be born… and he would defeat the hordes 

The prophecy was supposed to be fulfilled exactly 29 years, 11 months and 28 days ago… but there was no sign that a special baby had been born neither was there any gossip about a hero in distant lands. Earth hath lost hope and the valiant men of Morr had gathered at the foot of the Mountain ready for battle… they had resigned their fate to fight to their death… with or without a Messiah 

Kimka, the crown Prince of Morr, had peaked Mt. Morr several times in his quest to find the Messiah… at some point he felt he was the messiah. On several occasions he had attempted to retrieve the sword but failed every time. Legend had it that once the Messiah touched the sword’s hilt, the wings of the golden eagle on the sword’s handle would envelope his hand like gloves… it would remain that way until the last of the hordes was slain… 

Kimka saw the approaching dark clouds and his rage soared… He attempted to retrieve the sword again but ended up screaming in frustration… 

“Why are you screaming?” a familiar voice asked calmly… Kimka wheeled around, his sword out of its scabbard in a flash… eyes raging… blood racing… no one ventured up this mountain… at least not Morrans… Morrans revered it because of the golden sword that was stuck on the summit… 

Kimka was surprised to see the wood-worker’s son… 

“How did you get up here?” Kimka puzzled… looking round to see if there were others… The wood-worker’s son was not a warrior and as far as everyone knew he was a wood-worker too… he didn’t look like the type to go mountain climbing… especially not Mt. Morr… His name was Yeshua, right? Yeah it was… 

“The same way you did?” Yeshua responded as he walked towards the rock with the golden sword.

“What are you doing up here?” Kimka stood in Yehsua’s way

“I’ve come to take what is mine… you?” Yeshua sidestepped Kimka 

“And what is yours?” Kimka followed Yeshua 

Yeshua hopped on the rock and held the hilt of the sword… suddenly, the wings of the eagle, wrapped themselves around his hand and he pulled the sword out of the rock with ease… immediately the sword slid out, the skies opened and a colossal band of light struck Yeshua from above… 

Right before Kimka, Yehsua’s appearance was transmuted from drab to glorious… the wood-worker’s robe gave way to golden armour and his appearance was like that of a god… unknown to Kimka the messiah was God… 

Kimka’s feet couldn’t carry him anymore… all this time… he had walked past the messiah, looked down on him, scorned him and even bullied him once in a while without realizing who he was… no one had respect for the wood-worker’s son… Kimka fell on his knees in awe… muttering - “all this time…all this time” 

“There is a time for everything” Yeshua replied “a time to be born… a time to die… a time to prepare for a battle… and a time to fight the battle”

Kimka raised his face and stared at the glorious being standing in front of him… 

“No matter what your mission on earth is… if you are not ready… you will not be activated… I’ve spent the last 30 years getting ready for this day” Yeshua continued “Come… It’s time”

AMBITION 101

The dashboard said it was 01:12 and Ahmadu Bello road was unusually deserted on this wasted

Thursday. The embankment on Akin’s right featured no thugs on a hunt and there were no “hawkers” in sight. He pulled the Ferrari into the curb and got down with a bottle of Red Label in hand. The bottle was still chilled courtesy the bucket of ice that he had bought with the bottle at the club.

 Life was everything that any young man Akin’s age could dream of. He was the hottest thing on tabloids and every club across the nation had K Turton banging their floors and roofs. As high as wealth could fly, he was at his peak and had direct access to the most powerful politicians in Nigeria. Yet, this was never the plan 

Akin Turton was a church boy gone rogue. He started out in the choir, singing and evolving into rapping. He could play at least three musical instruments and majored in Music at Unilag – a journey that saw him graduating top of his class. Two years after school, he was regular at church events and ministered to numbers unheard of, but “ministrations” didn’t put him in the spotlight.

Akin Turton wanted to be famous, he wanted to ride the best cars, tour the world in private jets, own private islands “for God”. He dreamed of building a music city that would be home for all struggling gospel artistes… He had good and grand dreams… ambitions that had the gospel on the forefront… 

So when he was approached by AM records, with a deal that promised he would still do gospel music, he didn’t bother consulting God… every good and perfect gift comes from God, right? The common knowledge that AM Records was owned by drug lords didn’t bother him. Two albums down the line, K Turton went commercial and by the fourth, K Turton was raking in more cash than any artiste in the history of African Music industry has ever done – BUT… his content was sick enough to make the devil puke… 

The gifts and callings of God are without repentance… the anointing was still there, just that it was corrupted. K Turton had everything going for him but he was empty. He knew it and craved to be at the feet of the master again… but he was too big to attend a church… His street cred was too high for him to be found on his knees… 

He hopped clubs… blazed shows… changed female inspiration… but the emptiness got worse… He even tried adrenaline sports… still, sleep evaded him… when his homies were around he smiled but his tears were unfettered in their absence… this wasn’t living… this was wealth in the belly of the Cracken…

 He took a swig from the bottle and climbed the steps by the embankment. He passed a row of stalls and stepped onto the bar-beach sand… he could smell weed but there was no one in sight… He had contemplated suicide on several occasions but had never summed up enough guts to go through with it… tonight looked likely… he pulled off his shoes… jeans… t-shirt… jewelleries… and took one last swig before tossing the bottle beside the pile… He wanted to take a swim…

When his feet touched the first wave that slapped the shore…

 “Can you swim?” a voice asked… the voice sounded like a small boy’s

 K Turton turned round to find a small boy, whose face he couldn’t make out, sitting beside his pile of clothes… His first reaction was to scream… but he was too scared to even scream…

“Remember when you used to tell God you would FOREVER sing to his glory?” The Small boy continued… by now K Turton was too weak to stand… he fell on his knees… “what happened to your promises about building a music city for gospel artistes?” 

“beautiful words and ambitions” The small boy smiled and K Turton could feel the warmth despite the distance between them “but they were not as beautiful as the words that were written about you in the volume of books before you were born…” 

“I’m sorry” K Turton finally whispered as he closed his eyes in shame and tears… “I’m sorry”

“Now that you’ve had your wish” The small boy asked “is everything perfect?”

 K Turton lifted up his face to answer but there was just his pile of clothes…

STELESCOPE

In a world where sensory inputs are rated as the peak of logical perception, it is quite out of place to try convincing an Einstein with loads of scientific formula upstairs that ‘we walk by faith and not by sight’ or “what you see in the eye of the spirit supersedes what you see in the physical”. This being on the count that he even accepts that life has a spiritual dimension.

That you haven’t seen a Mexican physically doesn’t negate the fact that Mexicans exist (ignore the banters of philosophy for now). Truth is, there is a spiritual dimension to life and that dimension controls every activity in the physical. Out of nothing a spiritual God created a physical world. Simple logic purports that if there is a spiritual dimension, then there are spiritual sensory organs.

On this note I ask you to bring out your stelescope (spiritual telescope).

Enter Elisha’s servant with reports about the Syrian army that had surrounded them, eyes about to drop, heartbeat rounding the corner of a cardiac seizure, flight/fight instinct searching for the surest escape route and all Elisha does is smile; Elisha even asks the dude to chill, for the Assyrian troupe that he sees hold nothing against the Heaven’s host that was with them. At this point, the servant must have been another guy who thought that Elisha was nuts.

What does Elisha do? He simply prays that his stelescope be decrypted – when this happened, dude chilled. He realized that the heavenly host that was with them could decimate the entire Syrian army with one swipe. That’s what made the difference in the situation; the enlightening of his stelescope. So, do you see with the physical eyes or with your stelescope?

God asked Abraham to look around him and any land that He SAW, would be given him and Abraham SAW the world. How do I know this? Cos God promised him the entire world after Abraham had looked round – go to Sunday school please. How is it possible that Abraham SAW the entire world with his physical eyes? Nope, his stelescope did the job. He was blessed with even the land that Lot his nephew saw as beautiful with his physical eyes.

It’s apt that we visualize our purposes, not by what the immediate environment offers our physical sensory organs, but by what our spiritual antenna pick up.

See with your stelescope and not with your occularis.