Help! I’m Tired of Religion by Pearl Adams

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2
Let Jesus Help You
Clinch That Business Deal

I’m  Bukola  Akintola,  a  businessman  from  Ibadan  in  the southern  part  of  Nigeria.  I  became  involved  with  organized religion in 2005 when my father died of stroke. As the first son, the lot fell on me to arrange for his burial. Before then, I lived my life free of any religious entanglements. My late father prided himself in his ability to mix freely with people of all religious, shades, and colors.

He often described himself as a free thinker, whatever that meant. My mother was completely different, though. She was an active member of the Anglican Communion, and would sometimes persuade my father to attend church services with her.

My two siblings and I weren’t so keen about going to church, what  with  the  boring  preaching  and  all.  My  mum,  “a  very understanding woman,” didn’t stuff her religion down our throats, except   for   her   wedding   anniversaries,   which   were   usually celebrated in the church.

After I graduated from the university, I lost touch with that aspect of my life, and devoted my time to what I, at the time, saw as more worthwhile ventures. Of course, I attended my mum’s funeral service when she passed on in 2002. That wasn’t such a big issue for me because dad and my sister, Joyce, handled everything.

When my father died in 2005, Joyce and her family were on holiday abroad, and my younger brother, Gbenga, naturally looked to me for guidance. I had no choice than to meet with church leaders to plan the funeral. Sometimes, this entailed my having to sit through their boring services just to have audience with them, as they claimed to be “too busy.”

   It was in one of these services that I heard that God could open the doors of business opportunities for me, if I agreed to serve him. Up till that point, I wasn’t paying much attention to the sermon, but as a shrewd businessman, I filed that away. Who knows when I might need God’s assistance in the murky business environment in my country!

I was smiling to myself when the catechist sent for me to discuss my father’s burial.After the funeral service, I took what I felt was a much-needed break from my business with a trip to Cotonou in Benin Republic to see my cousin, Deinde Sylva. The last time I visited him, in 1988, we had a jolly good time at the beautiful beaches that dot that tiny country.

I was looking forward to having fun, indeed. On my arrival, I met a different Deinde. In fact, he was on the way to church when my taxi pulled up. He apologized for not coming to the Nigeria-Benin Republic border to pick me.

He carried my luggage into the living room, all the while clutching his Bible. What’s with this guy? I mused. As if reading my  thoughts,  he  looked  at  me  straight  in  the  eyes  and  said, “Bukky,  I’ve  jumped  onto  the  salvation  train.  I’m  no  longer available  for  mischief.  I  hope  we’ll  be  able  to  accommodate ourselves while you are here.” 

Without batting an eye, I said, “Sure. I’m not the devil’s cousin, Deinde. Just let me know when I step out of line.”

My remarks seemed to allay his fears, because he eventually dropped the Bible on a side stool in the living room and led me to the guest room to freshen up. He later served me my evening meal before leaving for “fellowship,” as he called it.

About twenty minutes after my cousin left, there was a knock on the door. Initially, I was reluctant to attend to the caller, since Deinde didn’t tell me he was expecting a visitor. The knocking  continued, this time with shouts of “Brother Bukky, Brother Bukky.” It was the voice of Celina, Deinde’s girlfriend of about six years

I  was  surprised  that  they  were  still  dating,  since  Deinde declared that he was no longer with “that crowd.” Celina and I had hit it off at first sight. She knew I would support her marriage to my cousin any day. I was at the door in a jiffy. “Ah, Sissy Cotonou, how did you know I was in town?” 

She scrutinized me with the look mothers reserve for their mischievous children. “What happened to you, Bukky? You’ve lost so much weight! I’m sorry I couldn’t see you after the funeral service. I had to call on my uncle in Lagos before rushing back to take  care  of  Deinde.  You  know  he  eats  just  about  anything whenever I’m not around to prepare nourishing meals for him. Oh, I can see you’re enjoying my sauce and rice. Want more?”

I could only smile. Trust Celina to pamper me like a little boy. In fact, she was one of the attractions in Cotonou. I wished with all my heart that I could stumble on a woman like her. At the same time, I enjoyed my life as a bachelor too much to bother about marriage. I envied Deinde’s luck in finding a woman who was ready to take care of him without dragging him to the altar to “do the right thing.”

As the night wore on, I expected Celina to take her leave, but she made no move in this direction. By 10:00 p.m., I had to ask her if it would be safe for her to return home, since her apartment was located on the outskirts of the town. She looked at me quizzically. “Didn’t Deinde tell you that I’m spending the weekend with you guys?” 

That came as a shock to me, because I had the impression that my cousin had parted ways with illicit relationships with women. Or was I imagining things? I just couldn’t help but blurt out, “But Deinde is born-again. How do you guys cope with that?” 

Celina didn’t even blush. She stood up from where she sat and gave me a wry smile. “Boys will be boys, my dear. Don’t let appearances deceive you! Everyone does this thing. What’s the big deal, anyway?

I felt as though the ground should open up and swallow me. What was the point of parading the Bible round the town only to turn around and spit on God’s face? I suddenly felt like leaving my cousin’s house right away. I couldn’t understand the clash of emotion in me; after all, my spiritual life was nothing to write home about. If the truth be told, I was too far away from God to cast any stone at Deinde.

I don’t know how I lived through the weekend,  and  was  very  glad  when  I  crossed  the  border  into Nigeria, three days later.On my return to Ibadan, I ran into a former school mate, Dave Orebisala,  close  to  the  General  Post  Office  in  the  city.  We promptly exchanged addresses and telephone numbers. Later in the week, Dave traced me to my father’s compound.

At that time, some of my relatives who came for the burial of my father were still around. Dave didn’t mind eating out. That was how we found ourselves at Leisure Restaurant on Ring Road, Ibadan. As the night wore on, Dave and I recalled our times at the University of Ibadan. We belonged to a number of associations on campus, and had held key positions in the Students Union in our third year.

We were laughing over some of our escapes with girls when Dave suddenly sat up straight in his chair with a far away look in his eyes. Before I could make any comment, he said, “Bukky, we can’t continue with this line of conversion. I’m sorry. The Holy Spirit is obviously not in support of it.” 

I don’t know what did it, my experience at my cousin’s place or the thought of a “man about town” like Dave pretending to be God’s buddy. I roared with laughter but Dave wasn’t amused. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Spare me the bullshit. I’m tired  of  this  religious  hype.  Why  won’t  you  guys  leave  God alone?”

I expected my friend to blow hot and cold. He used to have a foul temper in our student days, but he just sat there looking at me with something like pity in his eyes. That riled me even more. I picked up my car key and walked out of the restaurant. I didn’t give a hoot what he chose to do with his time. After a few days, Dave tried to get in touch with me several times by phone, but I closed  him  off.  He  eventually  got  the  message  and  stopped pestering me.

Three months after that encounter, a man I had met at the Sheraton Hotels and Towers, Abuja, sent me a text message that he needed to see me urgently. In fact, I had forgotten all about him and hadn’t stored his number in my cell phone. Of course, I couldn’t jump into the plane and travel to Abuja without a concrete reason. I decided to give him a call.

In the course of our discussion, he disclosed that another man he described as “an important person
in government” had been allocated an oil block off the Atlantic coast, close to the southern city of Calabar, in Cross River State. Ordinarily, I would have ignored such information, knowing how easy it is to be duped by fraudsters in the down-stream oil sector.

My late father had warned me frequently never to fraternize with peddlers of contract papers or the like. His aversion to fraudulent activities in any form was the major reason he remained in the furniture business until his death.Throwing caution to the wind, I jetted out of Ibadan and met with my source, who gave his name as Ibrahim Jetta.

After having lunch together in his room at the Sheraton, he took me to the Federal  Secretariat  to  meet  with  a  man  he  introduced  as  the Permanent Secretary, Ministry of Information, Walikin Haruna Koina. One thing led to the other, and I agreed to pay for the oil block. Since I hadn’t enough cash either at home or in the bank, I offloaded some of my blue chip shares, and sold two houses I inherited from my maternal grandfather who was a very wealthy man in his time.

In all, I mobilized three hundred million Naira, about two million, three hundred thousand American dollars, which I paid into Koina’s account. Two days after I paid the money, I tried to reach Jetta, but his cell phone was switched off. Koina was also incommunicado. I was beside myself with worry. To cut the long story short, I was stripped naked by the two con-men. The police tried to trace them, to no avail.

It was at this point that one of my employees, Charles Ukim, introduced me to his pastor, Reverend Yau Lengs from Plateau State in the north central region of Nigeria. Lengs assured me that the God he served would soon turn my situation around. He said God  would  daze  me  with  many  business  deals,  running  into millions of Naira within three months. I eventually joined the church, which prided itself on being the only “indigenous” place of worship that  incorporated  African traditions  and  ways  of life. Members had to be clad in white at all times, while polygamy was tolerated.

After five months, I became restless. Lengs appeared less perturbed.  He  said  his  God  was  “trying  my  faith.”  I  wasn’t convinced, so I left. From there, I sought help in more than six other churches before God had mercy on me. Guess who He sent as my deliverer! Dave.

This  time,  I  poured  my  heart  out  to  him.  There  was  no recrimination from him, just compassion. All he said was, “God will speak to you in his own time, then you’ll understand why he allowed you to go through the wilderness experience.”

That was exactly what happened. One day, while having my quiet time, I heard the still, small voice of God for the first time. He said, “You need a wife. I’m sending her to you next week.” I was so excited that I felt I should call Dave to share the experience with him. Apparently, the Lord wasn’t through with me yet. He said “Sit down.” Trying to mask the excitement, I lowered myself into the only chair in the room I use for my Bible study, and put my hands between my knees. I was all ears as his words washed over me.

“Whenever you read the book of Exodus, you despise the Jews in your heart because you believe they were dull heads. You say to yourself, ‘Why couldn’t they believe God despite all the miracles they witnessed?’ Bukky, would you have fared better if you were in their shoes? I sent Dave to lead you to your own promised land. He was a channel of my mercy to you. You didn’t need to go through that trial. In rejecting him, you despised my mercy just like the Jews.

Your folly set you back by about ten years. But I have arisen to deliver you and restore the years the cankerworms, palmerworms, and caterpillars have destroyed in your life. I have chosen you in the furnace of affliction to be my voice in your generation. Will you speak for me?

“There’s so much deception in Christendom. The enemy is using tricks to keep my people from pulling down his strongholds. You, too, fell for them. Have you ever seen a counterfeit or a non- existent currency? Just because your cousin, Deinde, chose to follow the path that leads to death, does that invalidate the power of my resurrection?

I have taken time to enlighten you on this because you and your spouse will be my instruments to deliver people of your generation from the grip of darkness. Whatever tries to block the light of God from enlightening the heart of man is a stronghold, and you must stand up against darkness in the land, so that my people can be set free by the truth that’s in me.”

True to his promise, God wiped away my tears and established me in ministry. Today, my wife and I take the gospel of Jesus Christ to the lost, especially youths. We’ve visited thirty-three nations in Africa and are planning to expand our ministry beyond the continent to the glory of God.