Dear Lord.
What is it again?
Can’t I just hail you?
You just hail me? Since when did that one start? Are all your hailings not a prelude to make requests, for you know that hailing brings out the best in me.
Father lord, but you take pleasure in answering our requests or would you rather I go to Uncle Lucifer.
I have warned you, whenever you come before me, mind your manners or I will allow leprosy to visit you.
My Lord, there is cure for it now oh and it’s no longer social stigma.
So why should I whip you with hyssop. Has your wife caught you, trouser and boxers on your knees, worshipping at another lubricated wet dripping temple?
No comment, you see and know all things but you know I am not like that Anambara woman caught and stripped naked.
Don’t mind those hypocrites, their judgment day is coming. If I had sent Amadioha to ask, let him or her without sin, cast a stone, most of them would’ve been burnt to ashes. But I am waiting for them. Karma has a definite date with them all.
Until it comes, I came here to confess my sins and ask for forgiveness. I finally succumbed and bought fuel in jerrycans and paid the Igala girl N1000.
Why did you, my son. So you couldn’t endure?
My Lord, no light, I have to power generator to enable the children you gave me to read. If they no pass exams now, the world will blame me. But God, why are you not interested in the darkness and heat in Abuja? Did someone forget to close the gate of hell after 3 past Nigerian leaders went in?
My son, are these your excuses for buying fuel in a jerrycan? Is there a law against it or are you afraid to be dealt with like they dealt with the woman who gave away fuel as souvenir?
I thought she wanted to roast her guest as burnt offerings to you.
This boy, I have told you, if I want burnt offering, the cider of Lebanon and all the trees in your rainforest can never be enough to roast the sacrifice that will satisfy me. All I need is you be nice to your neighbor, show him love and praise me.
Praise or hail you? Didn’t I tell you that you enjoy hailing from us.
Yes, when you hail me with a heart full of sorrow in search of me, I will raise, shake the pillars of heaven to hear you. I don’t need your rotten coins and naira, I don’t trade or use gold here and I do not send miracle money to people.
I circumcise hearts and remold broken clay into something fit to be used by men to glorify me.
Is it not what I do every week?
This boy, every week, you carry your toy-brother dash me phone and be snapping those worshipping me. Be careful or…
Papa me! I am in search of holy grounds to worship you nah.
Seek no more, the only holy ground where I seek to be worshipped is in your mind. I want you to renew your mind daily with holy thoughts, seek to do holy deeds, give help to those who cannot repay you. Your heart and mind, is the holy ground I seek.
Do you have space for me? I don’t live in man made structures, structures built with stolen money, money extorted from poor suffering people. My shrine is simple, needs no foreign imported marble, marble made by those who do not reverence me.
Chè, my Bishop, the holiest ground in Kubwa, is your heart. Work on it to avoid weed. Let cares of this world, temptation of loose flesh and desire to be rich, make you crowd me out. I am forever in you, whenever you need me. Just hail me.
