₦airaland Forum

TechToyin:
Hmmmm already did that

Do you have anything of value you can sell? It's a money issue right?

TechToyin:
No one is willing to help

Do you belong to any church? If you do, reach out to leaders and members. What about your family?

TechToyin:
I am contemplating suicide . I am loosing it

Don't do it Sir. There's life after death. No matter how bad the situation is, there's always a way out. Most of the time, we just have to swallow our pride and ask for help.

helinues:
Hope you live yourself sha

How do you mean?

Good morning friend

Good morning friend

MaxInDHouse:
Jesus didn't teach his disciples to go disturbing their neighbors with noise {Matthew 12:19} rather they are to knock on each door for each person to choose whether they will listen to them or not. Matthew 10:11-13
So those making noise in your streets are not Christians but misinformed churchgoers trying to do what they knew nothing about!

In Matthew 12, move to verse 17, and notice how verse 19 is a prophecy about Jesus specifically, not his disciples.

Then, look at Isaiah 58:1 KJV:
Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet, and shew my people their transgression, and the house of Jacob their sins.

Regardless of whatever label you identify as, you need to stop for a moment and really think about what's going on. The signs are all there. Jesus is alive.

Regardless of whatever label you identify as, you need to stop for a moment and really think about what's going on. The signs are all there. Jesus is alive.

Obi nestled one side of his head deeply into his pillow and pressed another pillow over his exposed ear, but yet, he could still hear the morning preacher.

“Repent! The kingdom of God is at hand. Turn away from your evil ways,” the man shouted at the top of his lungs.

It was as if all the evangelists in town had held a meeting and had decided to take turns preaching on his street every morning. Yesterday, the voice was female, and today, it was a guy.

With an angry grunt, Obi snatched up his phone from his bedside stool and checked the time.

“It's 5 freaking a.m.! Why the hell is this guy disturbing my sleep?” he demanded, although there was no one in his bedroom to answer him.

He had told the girl he picked up the previous night to leave immediately they had finished. He hated the idea of letting hookup girls spend the night with him. They were dirty and didn't deserve the privilege of cuddling with a man like him. He was a prize, after all, and only good girls deserved that honour.

“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. Jesus died so that you could get the chance to enter Heaven. Don't damn your soul to hell because you want to enjoy life,” the man went on.

Obi couldn't take it anymore. He could hardly breathe. Why were these people always preaching about doom? Jesus is coming soon, Jesus is coming soon. During his ancestors' time, they were also preaching that Jesus was coming soon. Yet, here he was in 2024 and Jesus still hadn't shown up. Enough already!

With that, he shot up from his bed and ran into his bathroom. He spotted some water in a bucket and picked it up. Then he unlocked his apartment door and rushed outside. Looking around, he spotted the preacher a few yards away from his building and walked towards him. Without a word, he emptied the bucket on the man's head.

The preacher was shocked into silence. He looked at the figure who had poured cold liquid on him. Although it wasn't daybreak yet, the streetlights illuminated the street. Standing before him was a young man who couldn't have been more than 29 years old. The man had an angry look on his face.

“Why the hell are you disturbing this neighbourhood? Don't you know people are trying to sleep? Unlike you, some of us actually work hard for a living, instead of going around, looking for people to bless us. Leave this place and don't ever come back, or else I'll release my dogs on you,” the man shouted.

With that, he turned around and walked back to his house. The preacher stood there shivering. He started to feel bad, but then remembered: If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are ye; for the spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you: on their part he is evil spoken of, but on your part he is glorified. There was no reason to feel bad. All his sacrifices would be worth it in the end.

Bending down, the preacher picked up the Bible he had dropped when the man assaulted him and walked to the next street to continue his assignment.

***Two weeks later***

Obi was seated on his parlor sofa, and although the AC was on, he could feel beads of sweat rolling down his face and back. He was finding it difficult to process the news he had just received.

The sales boy in charge of selling his goods at Rumuokoro Market had called him saying a fire had broken out last night from the transformer near his boutique. His shop was the only one that got burnt. Four million naira worth of imported men's clothes and shoes were gone just like that.

Obi couldn't think clearly. How come his shop was the only one that caught fire? Why would this kind of thing happen to him? He had just stocked up his shop and his account balance had taken a huge hit. How would he recover from this?

Just then, his phone started ringing again. He looked at the caller ID. It was Desmond, his forex account manager.

“Good morning Sir,” Desmond said.

“Yea, Good morning. What's up?” Obi replied, finally finding his voice.

“Sir, I don't know how to say this. I'm so sorry Sir. I'm so so sorry. I don't even know what happened. I was waiting for the right moment to sell, and everything just crashed suddenly. All the money's gone.”

“Jesus!” Obi exclaimed, “my money. My money o. I'm finished. What do you mean Desmond? I thought you said you were a professional trader. What happened to my money Desmond?” The line went dead.

Obi was shaking now and his body was moist with sweat. God why? Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong?

“I thought you don't believe in God,” he heard a voice say. He turned around sharply, but there was no one there.

“Who said that?” he demanded.

“…Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm.”

Obi turned around again in trepidation. “I said who is there?! Who are you?!”

“I am the Lord. And mine eye shall not spare, neither will I have pity: I will recompense thee according to thy ways and thine abominations that are in the midst of thee; and ye shall know that I am the Lord that smiteth,” the voice said.

“No…n-no. Please. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Please have mercy. I didn't know.”

Suddenly claustrophobic and dizzy with fear, Obi ran out of his house, and into the street.

“Please, no. Please, have mercy, I didn't know,” he kept screaming and looking around desperately. Unable to bear the heat, he ripped his shirt from his body. Who could help him? What was he going to do? Was this the end?

***
The two old men playing draught under the mango tree on Jeffa Street watched in astonishment as a young man suddenly ran out of his house, screaming loudly, and taking off his clothes.

“Please have mercy,” the man screamed.

They looked at the building he had exited, expecting to see his attacker, but there was no one there. The man kept screaming for a few minutes, then ran down the street, and went out of sight.

“All dis yahoo boys sef,” one of the men said, “dey go always do things wey go finally make them kolo.”

“Every day for the thief and one day for the owner. Abeg play jor,” the other one replied.

drimzsmoke:
On a Sunday, this is frontPage worthy. Well done!!!👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿

Thank you Sir