KingIfey's Posts
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WarRLaY:This really sounds weirdly philosophical ![]() |
IamLEGEND1:No..Yes..No..Yes...I mean..choose which one |
Paulpaulpaul:Hmmm I am thinking about this illustration. it is one kind sef..LOL.So the dangling thing is for public use? |
pinceprinz:LOL...can you paint more pictures of that? |
kossyablaze:And men are the bedsand? You make it sound like men are the useless entities..LOL ![]() |
I have been to so many churches and my tongue has tasted the sweet savour of gossips served like deliciously hot latte in beautiful mugs; the choristers sipped as they giggled at each other while the sermon went on. This happens on the choir stand. Yes, on the choir stand. That stand that breeds all sort of personalities, where the devil closes in to attack and the angel stands on guard. Yes, the choir stand breeds enmity and pride. If Nnenna embellished her song, Aramide would definitely get a green tinge in her eye, seeking ways to get Nnenna’s image mucky enough to make the whole church see her filth worn around her neck like a garland. If Femi did his beautiful riffs and runs, that was supposedly out of the world, Harrison would definitely see it as being totally expunged of all spirituality, emphasizing that he performed in the flesh rather than in the spirit. That’s not all. The choir stand has the latest gossips ever: international, local and even parochial gossips. Well the gossip that sells the best are the parochial ones: the ones within the church itself. You get to know the affluent men in the church, the ladies who have had several abortions and how many times they have had such, the ladies warming the pastor’s bed and the people who are purportedly doing dirty businesses in the church. ‘ Choi! If sister Nkechi isn’t a LovePeddler, only God knows the Alhaji she might be dating at the moment that lavishes money on her like she is the Cleopatra of this century, mtcheew.’. Another says, ‘Well I heard Emma is dating Amaka now, hmm, see who has been used and dumped’ pointing over to the front pew of the choir stand. Oh that would be Sister Njideka, she probably just had abortion few months ago and her relationship with Emma went sour. ‘oh poor girl. Her heart would just be bleeding right now’ says the other sister. Sister Njideka on the other hand, is right about now, intensely ogling the pastor,’Omawumi told me that pastor Timothy was really good in bed. Hmm, I really hope he finds me attractive when I go for counseling this week. I am ready to tell him how I did it with that good for nothing weakling. I will definitely get him excited and have him speaking in tongues on top of me soon’. At another corner, Okechukwu looks on with such menacing grimace, saying in his heart ‘bunch of unrepentant fornicators in the house of God. Christ have mercy.’. He does the sign of the cross in a congregation totally averse to the sign; whereas, two brothers are talking about how messy his bathroom gets with that life-filled substance since he is yet to get laid. They giggle gently so they don’t get heard by others. Here at the stand, everyone seems to have some curd to chew like the goats in my grandma’s pen. What else can they NOT possibly talk about? I was in this big Pentecostal church one certain Sunday with a friend. He met his fellow chorister after service who had asked why he wasn’t sitting near the choristers, that it would have been good if he had stayed there, because all the tiny details and the dirty linens of the church got flaunted, tossed and hurled all over the choir stand. Hmm… And he as sure as hell had his ears itching for all those juicy wanton details. Well, it’s so easy to know this. Just stay around the choir stand next Sunday and see for yourself. You will go home with at least one piece of news, either consequential or inconsequential. Yes, nevertheless this choir is the key to the growth of a church. Have a big and professional choir and watch your congregation grow exponentially; or get a mediocre choir with boring output, and have yourself a congregation as scarce as hen’s teeth. The power of any church is in the delivery of the choir and the touching sermon of the clergy . The day the choir does well, the congregation’s dopamine is tripled in their blood streams, but when they flunk, the message of the day would get suspended in the atmosphere waiting to return to the deliverer’s pocket, that would be the pastor. All choirs have the key to unleash angels on their churches; at the same time they have the key to release several demons capable of tormenting the members. I am not here to badmouth choristers. No. The few bad eggs have let their disease fester to others, and soon the whole crate will all be miserably putrid. We should use this opportunity to call back all our brethren singing for the LORD. It is not about learning Sinach’s or Samsong’s or Donnie Mcclurkin’s speaking in tongues and then flaunting it to the entire church as though you were singing from the seventh heaven with an unimaginably pristine heart. No. You need to be truly slain in the spirit, and when that is achieved for all choir members, I think the gossip will vanish into thin air. Please for more information on how to get the Holy Spirit, kindly contact your pastor okay? So the question is, who do we start with? I need to start with myself; take myself to the Holy Ghost’s slaughter house and have my spirit butchered and purged of all those negative energies before anybody else. It is absolutely necessary. I hope that this will ignite the change needed for a positive transformation. Alright, I do actually know that there are good choristers out there who are less pro-gossip, but I am making this toast to everyone. So, here is to all choristers, may your lives be far less complicated with ENVY, STRIFE and, most importantly, GOSSIP than they are right now. Oh! Before I forget, may your life (the reader) and mine be far less complicated with those qualities too. lol Cheers! Courtesy of http://www.thisvoice.net/2015/10/18/how-the-choir-makes-or-mars-the-church/ Check out Ifey's Column here http://www.thisvoice.net/category/ifeys-column/
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benedictnsi:In other words, the bible made men to cheat more than ladies, and offer more punishment to ladies for a sin of equal gravity? |
Why is it that most men cheat as if it were an inclination, a tendency that is inevitable in manhood? Most men make it seem like cheating is what defines a 'real man'. Having as many conquests as King Solomon couldn't even have. Then, when you are full of candour for your partner, you are tagged "juu man'' huh? huh. Then, some men get to lie about the number of ladies they have consummated with, as though some grammy awards were given the person with an outrageously high statistics of bedded female density...LOL Why then is it repulsive when women cheat? Why are they more punished for sexual offences than men? Even when a woman is raped, and it becomes obvious that she has been raped, some societies in the world tend to look at her in a demeaning way. Have you even noticed that in most marriages or relationships, a woman condones her husband's or boyfriend's promiscuity ; but when she mistakenly makes love to her husband's or boyfriend's best friend, her husband instantly gets a heart-attack at the unravelling of such painful truth.. ![]() So I have to ask also... Is it genetically inbuilt in men to cheat? ![]() http://www.thisvoice.net/category/ifeys-column/ |
Kuzaku:thank you kuzaku. Part of our ordeals on facebook.LOL |
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say, but this one beat my imagination. It all started on social network with a simple add and a casual introduction. At first she was distant and did not chat often, but I took the lead and broke the ice. The ice thawed and we chatted about everything; she seemed particularly interested in everything I had to say. At long last, glory be to God for a soul mate met through miscellaneous adds on social network. One day, I made so bold to call her and o my God! She sounded so ethereal like a fairy tale goddess; my senses ran wild and began dreaming of timeout filled with making out at a beach, far away in Miami. Oh, And I have never been there anyway, but in my dreams, I had toured America with my fairy tale goddess; riding the crest of the waves of the seas and flying to the moon on a magic-carpet ride. She was in deed my Jasmine. A jasmine I never saw but the sound of her voice already painted pictures of a curvy, 5ft8, femininely endowed lady whose beautiful voice can melt a heart of stone. It started with sleepless nights and before I knew it, I was completely besotted with a face I conjured up from sweet dulcet tones I heard off my cell phone. Call me stupid now and you wouldn’t be too far from the truth. The mere thoughts of her relieved me from all the stress at work; a few months in the relationship saw my skin looking great with the vitality of someone ten years younger. I became merrier and more fun to be with. A day came and I thought it was about time I met her. I relayed the information to her, dreading she would decline my request; on the contrary, the feeling was mutual: she felt the same way. Clearly, you wouldn’t see me beneath the clouds because I was obviously above cloud nine and as if that wasn’t enough, I was reaching for the moon too. My excitement knew no bounds, and I painstakingly put all the effort in the preparation to meet her. We were supposed to meet out, but I had to clean up the mess in my room because honestly, I expected the first night to be that night: the night love birds sang about, the night ever cherished. No, do not get me wrong. I did not mean to have one night stand in mind, but the months I spent waiting to behold the face behind the voice, had triggered my hormone and it did rage like an unabated water sprout. The day came. Obviously it was a red letter day and no matter how cliché the expression sounds now, it really went down into the archive of unforgettable histories of mine. Here is what happened Unlike every other day, this day was so different. It was a Saturday, and the smell of freshly cut grass from regular morning sanitation was wafting through the air. Clouds sat up in the sky smiling at me, although now that I think of it, I guess they were in fact mocking me. Shoes heavily laden with black polish shone perfectly, blending with the tuxedo which by the way cost me an arm and a leg: half my salary got splurged on it. My Rolex watch glittered, my hair shimmered from hair cream which I couldn’t even remember the last time I used, and the air around me could literally make head turn 360 degree with the ‘Wow’ keeping their mouth agape. There I was, waiting for her at a beach in town where we planned to meet, standing and gazing into the distant part of the ocean, watching the waves rise and fall, creating rapids near the shores and the migratory birds filled the sky with such beauty that made me feel romance in the air. Then my phone beeped. I dipped my hand into one of my trousers’ pockets, got the phone and opened the message. It read, ‘’ I am at the beach!’’ with an exclamation mark which made me feel she really screamed her happiness out through my phone. The moment came, the moment I was supposed to behold the woman; there I was cringing, the blood at my feet froze, my heart raced and the wind didn’t make it any better. It blew furiously and kept my eyes shut in anticipation of the unseen. Then, I heard a voice from behind a few metres away,” Darling, I am here” the ‘here’ was yodeled to an extent where it sounded like a lady singing opera. I turned around with a grin from ear to ear and I thought, “At last, the lady of my dreams is here”. On tilting towards her angle, my grin faded into a grimace and then my eyes almost bulged out from their sockets. She was a giant! Huge! In fact, a hulk! She could literally grab the whole of me in between one of her fists. Her body bustled with the thickness of a female gladiator. There and then, the drama was over when her face came on to me crystal clear as though she came out from the haziness of a misty space, and I looked with an open mouth, wide eyes, and heaving chest. I felt stars—from a blow I assumed I was going to get—flooding my vision; legs got obliterated as though a child chose to erase the legs of a character he drew on his drawing-paper. The next thing I knew, I swooped and fainted with a loud thud to the earth and a loud splash had me drenched. So much for the beauty I expected to be everything I wanted. Remembering this now, the sky most definitely had its reason for smiling jeeringly at me. By KING IFEY Courtesy of www.thisvoice.net |



