YOU'VE GOT ME

Coach Straus droned on but Simone had zoned out… his mind was burnt… no, charred was the word.

Thirteen games in a row and he had not netted any goal yet (not even in training)… since the 2013 season started. What good was a striker who didn’t convert chances? He was the most expensive player on the planet right now and the previous season had seen him win UEFA footballer of the year … with 57 goals that season

His thoughts were tied up in knots at too many points… his nights were wrapped up in too many layers that by the time he finished unravelling them, his alarm would clang 05:00… meals were poison and he was fast losing weight. 

He had complained to the Team Psychologist… visited different psychotherapist after the first five games of the season without goals and they all said the same thing… he was in top shape… but he knew different. 

It sounded distant, but he could recognize the coach’s voice… he jerked in surprise as a team mate poked him

“Simone…Simone?” Coach Strauss was saying “are you okay?” 

“Sorry coach… I don’t think I can play the second half?” Simone asked with confusion inscribed on his face 

“Where have you been the whole time?” Coach Strauss asked in dismay “I already said you were off the team till you got your groove back” 

This was the height… Simone knew his team depended solely on him… and if Coach Strauss had decided to bench him till he started scoring in trainings… then he too had given up on Simone. He watched the team roll out for second-half but didn’t move an inch… nobody cared enough to bother him. 

When the last man had gone out he went to his locker and started clearing out his stuff… he needed a break and he didn’t care what his contract said, he was going to hide away for the next two weeks. Then he found an old diary his mum had bought him when he first moved to Spain… the year he signed his contract with Madrid… 

The first page stopped him cold… it was a prayer… it read “Dear God, thank you for the opportunity to play in the world’s biggest club… if you will crown me with the title of UEFA’s best in this club… I will publicly declare your son Jesus as the saviour of the world… if I don’t, take my groove away” 

Realization washed over him like fish in hot oil… he had reneged on his word… he was responsible for the goal drought he was facing… 

Straightaway he tossed everything back into the locker… slammed it shut… swiftly changed into a clean jersey… and rushed out… with a smile 

He knew what had to be done… suddenly; life wasn’t so terrible anymore…

JESUS STARE

The undulating terrain held nothing but scare for Jones. It was rugged and narrow… the race course was

helmed in by fierce menacing barbs, thorns and gigantic briers. Another rider throttled past him on a dirt bike – the rider wasn’t looking at the terrain, but at something in front of him which Jones couldn’t make out.

There was a distant glare that could barely pass for a bush lamp. Jones knew that was the finish line but he wasn’t sure if the rider was actually staring at the glare… it was so tiny. 

This was the third rider that he had seen do that while riding past him. What were they staring at? Jones had tripped into thorny boundaries about three times. By the third time, his riding gear was riddled with innumerable cuts and his helmet was gone. He had managed to pull himself up just before sliding into the gaping darkness beyond the barbs, thorns and briers. 

“How could anyone call this The Beautiful Race?” Jones grumbled as he pulled out a prick from his left arm.

 Another rider approached and Jones observed again that he was staring into oblivion but his riding was steady. He decided he was going find out what these guys were staring at. As the rider’s bike hopped over the crest, Jones screamed 

“What are you staring at?”

 “The Manual” The rider’s scream sounded muffled from under the helmet… and Jones noticed that the rider almost tripped when he took his eyes off whatever he was staring at… but he regained balance as soon as he resumed staring. 

Jones then remembered the manual all riders were asked to buy at the beginning of the race. He had bought one but didn’t bother opening it because he didn’t need any quack telling him about dirt bike racing. Unknown to him, this was no ordinary racing… this was “The Beautiful Race”

 Jones ransacked his pocket and found the tiny manual. He opened it. Even though the light was fast fading, he could make out the words like it was bright day light. The first thing he saw was “NEVER LOOK AT THE TERRAIN”… what sort of stupid manual was this? How were you to race on a terrain without looking at it? How was one meant to negotiate the crest and troughs? 

But he continued “…KEEP YOUR EYES LOCKED ON THE LIGHT”… then it hit Jones like a cyclone… Hebrews 12:2 – Looking away from all that will distract to Jesus, the leader and source of our faith and also its finisher. 

Jones realized that the other riders where steady because the never took their eyes off the LIGHT. JESUS is that Light. Without constantly staring him, we all fall into the thorns lining the race course!

ORIENTATION OF A KING VI

“Why won’t you even look at me” Cleopatra rubbed Joseph’s chin gently and he shrunk back. 

“The mere thought of your suggestions are underserving of my God and master” Joseph drew close to the only exit from this gaping abyss of lust. “What is it about me?”

 “Why don’t you ask yourself that question?” Cleopatra drew near him again 

“This is wrong against God” Joseph whispered with tears in his eyes… he knew this was absolutely wrong and was also aware of the fact that his refusal would get him sacked. Madame Cleopatra had threatened over and over, used every tactic in the book but he had not given in.

It had started with subtle gifts and niceties… then it advanced to body rubs… subsequently aggravating to open requests. Joseph was caught in between his integrity to God, his loyalty to Potiphar (his master) and the grim claws of this evil seductress. He knew without a doubt that the surest bet was God, so his tears were not out of weakness but out of the realization that God wasn’t done training him for where he was going to. 

Joseph’s tears were a show of anger that he still had flaws that needed testing. He had contemplated telling his master several times but would Potiphar believe a common Israeli slave over his wife of fifteen years? 

Kunle Smith knew what would follow immediately and turned to Eti. “Watch carefully, son… someday this might be you” he whispered. Kunle had brought his son through Time Warp to witness this classic temptation theatre. The media was rank with tons of sensual material and Kunle needed his boy ready to overcome. 

They stood under the covers of the heavy Egyptian blinds yet their vision wasn’t hindered by the covers. Two time-frames had been merged… but only the parties from the present year could traverse both time-frames. 

Cleopatra grabbed Joseph by the waist in a lock that was definitely powered by hell. She pulled him like a possessed tigress and succeeded in getting him to the bed despite Joseph’s manly strength…

Eti shut his eyes in disgust and youthful innocence but Kunle tapped the boy on the shoulders “the best part is here son” urging Eti to open his eyes. 

At that instant, Joseph elbowed Cleopatra in the gut. She yelped like a wounded dog and released her grip temporarily. As Joseph took off towards the door, Cleopatra regained strength and reached for his coat… and the coat felt this was the appropriate time to be rent… on the right shoulder 

SO Joseph fled the sin scene leaving behind the coat of proof… that he was either guilty or innocent. 

“Dad” Eti whispered to his dad “Why was Cleopatra so particular about Joseph” 

“The destiny of the world lay in the integrity of Joseph’s heart” Kunle replied “and God allowed him to be taken through series of temptations to be sure that particular character was sealed in his heart”

“Did Joseph know this?”

 “Sure… remember his dreams?” Kunle replied “The devil’s greatest battle with you will come when he knows you’ve discovered your world changing purpose in Christ”