(A chronicle of brushes with nature, fate, and inexplicable happenings; this story will run for the next three weeks)
Chapter Two
Drift into The Unknown
Sensing danger, Johnbull’s mother drew her chair closer to her son and vehemently nudged him to speak out. Fortunately, his mother was a veteran in life’s battles—and a prayer addict. Johnbull could be considered a novice—an amateur—for he had no experience about handling such predicaments. Though he had been very positive and was striving towards a new realm of blessings and breakthroughs, he couldn’t understand the manner afflictions descended upon him; and now to be confronted with this bitter downturn. Had someone told him that adverse situations were to be frontally challenged, he may not have believed. Johnbull had reasoned that life was full of roses and exotic flowers; and there was no need for fasting and prayers.
Now that he was down, save for the intervention of his mother, his defeat would have been a forgone conclusion. As his mother persisted, he finally opened up and told her someone he did business with—and lost woefully was responsible.
‘What type of business was it’, his mother asked.
‘Oh, it was just to supply some computers to an Insurance company’, he answered.
‘So, what happened’, his mother asked again.
‘The computers were stolen from where they were kept’, he told his mother. To Johnbull, that was a nasty experience. The place where the goods were kept was well guarded. It was strange that, the same day they were stored, was the time the enemy chose to strike. They had a field day destroying even the accessories that came with the computers. When Johnbull discovered the calamity, he broke down in tears.
That incident would be the second time disaster struck. In December, 1994, his senior brother had sent two boxes of cloths from overseas to be sold as trial samples; those cloths were stolen by unknown forces. If that was not a warning signal, this should be! That’s what reinforced Johnbull’s feeling of bad luck. He couldn’t understand why they kept launching fresh attacks against him, neither the aim. But since this last blow was delivered, he became convinced that perhaps an underground plot was under way to have him destroyed completely. He didn’t know how long he drifted off, but he suddenly realized that his mother was speaking.
‘How much was involved’, she asked, her eyes fixed on him.
‘About 2 million in naira’, he answered, blinking his eyes a bit.
‘Hmmn. Two million; that’s a lot’, she replied, showing no surprise.
But you know mothers; they have this soothing way of bringing a tensed situation under control. Instead of heaping blame on her son, she calmly patted his back and encouraged him to go and prepare for the visit. Mothers! They will give their right arm to save their children! And that’s how it works—never say die spirit.
‘We will overcome this, Johnbull’ she assured him, explaining that the visit to the Pastor was very important.
‘Who is that Pastor?’, Johnbull questioned, his voice weak.
Until now, embattled Johnbull had never visited any church. He drove around Lagos believing that misfortune was not his portion. He took life for granted and infact ridiculed his friends who spent hours praying and fasting. For that reason, he was likely to be at home on Sundays listening to rock and jazz music.
‘You will know him when we get there’ his mother answered.
‘He is very good in his profession and God is using him tremendously’, she hinted him.
Johnbull, fearful of another come back attack agreed to go.
He has had enough of these inexplicable run of setbacks. It would be difficult to resist any avenue capable of producing solution when struck with afflictions. The allure of revival and triumph was often embraced—not minding whatever the repercussion. It was in this tense situation that Johnbull got dressed and joined his mother downstairs to commence the short trip to the Pastor’s house.
