Category: Article

WHAT BEGAN AS A DILEMMA

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Part II

Usually, I have everything in my life fixed including how I want to live and move and have my being. I do not need further help except for this one: I am in a dilemma—
Running marathon on a steep path and finishing adorned; or sprinting along a smooth lane only to come out alive.

But why is it that in this life of mine, I always almost have just two options?

Well I do not need any help from this man standing before me, who hails from nowhere like Melchizedek—This man who promises me a better portrait of myself.

Then a song begins to play from his chancel lamp. No wonder it looks just like a home theatre. I watch the orange flourescence dance like disco light as the song plays:

I want God’s way to be my way as I journey here below for there is no other highway that a child of God should go.Though the road be steep and rough, if he leads me it’s enough, I want God’s way to be my way everyday.

The voice is sweet but the words are quietening my nerves. I am uneasy about the ease I am experiencing. I am not used to calmness because in my philosophy, a man must be up and doing or else how does he prove to be up to task? This is why most times, it’s either I’m up or I’m doing.

The words of the song are taming my soul further into stillness. They are like tranquilizer, vanquishing the spasmodic discomforts in my gut. My whole body is heavy yet light, and it seems I can’t feel anything anymore, as if somebody else, a presence, is living on my behalf.


I find my face turned toward him, my gaze fixed on him. I startle at what I see on his face: Words are displayed on his forehead like a computer screen:

Better is it to (stand) as a doorkeeper in thy tent than to dwell(at ease) in the tent of the wicked.



I am wondering what the tent of the wicked is and before I can take the next breath, he has answered me as though he is hearing my thought.

The tent of the wicked pitches in the heart of a man who chooses ease at the expense of God’s way.

It is as Sodom to Lot, a place that a man appoints for himself because of splendour and comfort without seeking to know if it pleases his maker. Many men opt for their own choice without caring whether it is the portion allotted to them from above, just in a bid to escape the seemingly perilous pathway to glory.

To dwell in the tent of the wicked is to be like the servant who hid his master’s talent under the ground, damning the consequence of an unfulfilled destiny, thinking his master is a hard man subjecting him to a rigorous and unattractive lot.

You see, I make beautiful portraits with both dark hues and bright colours, with both broken lines and straight lines. I need them all combined to create my pleasure and make art of men.

My perfect will is a blend of the good and what you term the bad. In the end, I bring light out of darkness and turn crooked paths straight, but first there must be pain before gain, suffering before satisfaction, peril before pleasure.

As lucid as the message of a simple poem, everything is now making meaning to me. First, the song, then his words. What began as a dilemma is diving out of the deep.

Suddenly, I am no longer in a dilemma! I am no longer in a dilemma!

My heart melts into brokenness. The tears are already forming bubbles on my cheeks. Wobbling, I fall into his bosom. This time around, I am not up and doing, I am down and done. I can no longer lift up my face before him and my tremulous hands can no longer hold the pencil.

The man is now sitting on a big throne and not on my chair, he’s making my portrait on a mighty wall erected before him. All of this is taking place in a room where an altar is burning and not in my art gallery.

In the portrait that he’s making, I begin with plenty dark hues but I am gradually evolving into bright colours. Also, there are many broken lines but the straight lines are becoming superimposed on them such that the broken lines are hardly noticeable. He is still working on the art while I am set to begin my marathon race upon the steep path.

It is the last week of the year but what began as a dilemma this morning has transpired into the divulgence of a mystery capable of ministering strength to me every morning.

One day, soon, when I finish this race, which I’ve embraced with hope and joy, I hope to change the inscription on the entrance of my art gallery to:
Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God has shined out.

Ayooluwa Olasupo (Imisi)

WHAT BEGAN AS A DILEMMA

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Part I

It is the last week of the year and I am in a dilemma—

Running marathon on a steep path and finishing adorned; or sprinting along a smooth lane only to come out alive. But why is it that in this life of mine, I usually have only two options?

It doesn’t seem I’ve got a way out of this dilemma yet, so I stroll into my art gallery. I have not been there in a while. I draw the curtains to allow light rays fall into the room, then I pull out a chair and start to sketch a portrait of myself— the kind I have longed to possess for ages.

I do not like to see dark hues in a work so in that drawing, I am appearing bright and beautiful and my face is beaming with all the colours of the rainbow.

I do not like broken lines too, so with my eraser, I clean the broken lines where a pair of glasses sits on my nose, carefully converting them all into perfect lines with my ruler.

My canvas will soon be wearing that perfect portrait of me.

I look at this work of art again with great enthusiasm; it is almost complete. I feel so satisfied that I do not know when my lips part to drip smiles from the corners of my mouth.

Then a man approaches me whom I do not know. He’s old enough to be my father but his own face glows. He doesn’t knock nor turn the knob and I can’t fathom which way he entered through.

Apart from the chancel lamp in his hand that gives off warm light and resembles a mini home theatre, there’s something about him that surpasses my understanding and even his stance sends ounces of awe down my spine.

I am admiring him until he says I should let him hold my tools, let him have my canvas, let him own this art gallery and he’ll make a better portrait of me. I giggle. What is better than my own “perfect”? My own “perfect”.

I am angered. I am nervous. I can feel my intestines twisting, hear the gush of acid pouring into my chest from my stomach at the sound of his request. It seems I can even hear as my valves are opening to pump blood out of my heart because both of my legs are now becoming warm.

But, there is something about him that makes me have a rethink about refusing to give him chance. I look at him again with uncertainty. He doesn’t look like someone who can violate my work yet I’m afraid.

I’m afraid he might alter, alter this piece in which I am almost becoming a perfect portrait of my dream self….

Ayooluwa Olasupo (Imisi)

The Chosen Review: Shabbat

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How would you feel if the President of a country, whom you hold in high esteem pays you a visit uninvited? Especially when he passes by other houses and decides on your unspectacular house?

Sounds unbelievable?

That is exactly how Mary must have felt in Episode 2 of The Chosen when the doctor who healed her of her infirmity without collecting a dime showed up at her doorsteps for Sabbath. More important was the fact that she did not invite him, yet, He found her.

I want such an August visitor, who wouldn’t?


But just before Sabbath, we witness the events of the day in the lives of Mary, Nicodemus, Simeon Peter and Matthew. We observe as Matthew display a matchless level of courage before the Praetor of Judea, Quintus, from whom he went to confirm if Simon Peter and his brother’s taxes had indeed been waived by the Roman Officer as alleged by Peter in exchange for a job for the officer.

Read The Chosen’s S1 Ep1 Review

Matthew learnt that their taxes had been waived for a job which required Peter to spy on his brethren and bring names of those who worked on Sabbath and were tax evaders. An act considered as betrayal and greatly disapproved by his brother, Andrew.

In the same episode, Nicodemus to his uttermost dismay got information that Mary Magdalene upon whom he had earlier performed religious rites to deliver her from demonic possession, though unsuccessful, had been miraculously healed, a task which he had earlier deemed humanly impossible. He embarks on a quest to find out how this came to be.

They all seemed to have had a busy day but what was much more interesting about these characters was how they celebrated Sabbath.

One had so much friends all around for the events. Isn’t that what we all want? Another chose money above his family, the one who wanted to spend time with his family was not wanted by them while Mary had an august visitor! From all these, what can we learn?


So what makes Sabbath so different from every other day and how did these people prepare towards it?

How should we celebrate what we consider to be the “day of rest” in our society? Episode 2 offers us the requisite answers to these.

Download The Chosen App here to watch the series for free.

Watch Season One’s trailer here.

God trusts you!

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Often when we teach trust to believers, we encourage them to trust God but what if the right way to look at it is from the angle that God trusts us – Me.

Because…

The act of loving itself is impossible without a measure of trust.

When I understand that God initiated the love relationship between Him and I, I also understand that it must mean He trusts me.

Throughout the Bible we see this concept proven over and over in every relationship God has with a man. Against all odds and through generations of unfaithfulness and inherent flaws, God continues to put his love on us, risking his trust being broken and trusting the good he saw in us when he first created our kind at Eden.

I’m a Creative so I can relate to the love a creator has for his/her creation. No matter how imperfect, we believe there’s good in every creation at the very least. At worst we believe it can be better and sometimes we spend entire lifetimes trying to perfect our creation.

God is a Creative.

So every time I fear or worry, he’s still there trusting me through the process and it’s this unrelenting trust he has in me that eventually saves me. Because he trusts me, he keeps coming for me, keeps teaching me, allows the experiences I need to learn from happen, he keeps healing me…

He has enough faith for us both
He doesn’t ask for what he hasn’t given

So when he asks for my trust and my faith and my love, it’s because he has given them to me ahead.
It doesn’t matter if it’s the one-millionth time I fail, or worry or fear or fret…
He’s there. He trusts me to get it right. He knows I can.
Be good. Be better. Do better. Do more.
He trusts me to trust him because he wants to partner with me to pull madht stunts on earth.

Wow.

I mean, when we see it this way, suddenly trusting God becomes easier and doable. It just makes sense.

– St. Davnique
(c) 2021