BURDEN OF A WATCHMAN (Dec 12)

Where is the Church?

Where the “church” is I do not know, but wherever the Presence is, there I will be. Sometimes ago, every sunday morning hurled over my quiet soul, nudging me into struggles with demands of religion against the true essence of faith. I was yoked with the compulsion of service in exchange for eternity, a contradiction that barely interpret my role in partnership with the cause of Christ. My activities in response to church duties however was spelt with several editions of doctrine. The church cleverly built a system that duly punish my conscience if I erred or revolted against its static and preemptive policies. The rod of the tongue scourged my soul and condemnation flooded my badge of sonship with little or no help of grace to pick it up. I struggled to not yield to noxious and lustful influences and its multiple impulses of the flesh.

I have a considerable penchant for the aesthetic gem of Calvary but often felt too ashamed to look up to him that was hung thereon. I was vulnerable to guilty pleasures yet willful in embracing moral touchstone. I hoped that If I was schooled and tutored enough, I will someday become a perfect insignia of holiness; time however races against such prospect as I was fast becoming a civilized hypocrite, polished in the similitude of a Christian. Thanks to my saving Grace that was both ahead and behind in my rough alleys, mending my patches, committed to his love. A bruised reed he said he will not break, a smoking flax he promised not to quench. I was not better off than any other I would have called a “worldly Christian” for there is no such term in the branch of Christianity. I love the Lord from my childhood, I love his ways but was caught in the web of earning my own righteousness by my own resilience, an act that betrayed my convictions.

The whips of the law could not wean me from the staggering facilitations of the flesh, unanswerable questions surmount my soul when I stood in contrast to men with false heralds of grace, as their boasting against the law has produced nothing like Christ either. 

“Isn't Jesus enough?” this was all I needed to know. Would I still love him if there is no heaven or hell? If there are no rewards or crowns, if there is no hell to burn. Would I still love him? Perhaps we can all answer these questions, we would judge our sincerity. Why do I serve? If serving him just for who he is was all I was called to do, would I still love him? Do I then have to worry about eternal homes if I have truly found a home in him. Isn't the embrace of his love sufficient?

I grew tired of my own charades, When my incomprehensible lack of love met his incomprehensible excess of love. If I would be a perfect model of a Pharisee, I already have a highway to trail. But for the love of him who is committed to me and the beckoning of his perfect hope. I must take the steps farther than the borders of denomination. A decision that put my being through surge and sway. Could I serve him perfectly without a “church” well that depends on individual's understanding of the Church. No man can please God in isolation from the body of Christ. “He is the Vine we are the branches” no branch survives on its own. The Church however is never and has never been our administrative structures, our denominations and church buildings is nothing more than an esteemed edifice and famed circle of indoctrinated folks. I will rather embrace the church as the body of Christ, stay wherever he stays and leave wherever he leaves.

If then a church is the hall where the king of Zion was chased with stones, there I will also flee. If the church is the little room whose door received the King of Zion, there I will also stay. Therefore I do not know a church but Christ and his love. I will no longer be bound by the ways and the waves of religion, I have shed their petals on the floor for the effulgence of the true glory of my King. I must therefore cherish him for the sole treasure that he is, and cleave to him as the highest price of every pleasure and the deepest comfort in every pain. Then it is safe to conclude that where his Presence is, there is the Church.

Oni Omotayo

BURDEN OF A WATCHMAN (New Series)

A SUCCESS STORY

“Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.” James 1:12 KJV

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing and sometimes you must be ready to risk it all. Yes, how often these words put us on our feet every morning, striving to climb the ladder of success. Undoubtedly, a success story is an eventful story with an uneventful and ignoble path, especially when the success goal does not conform with popular declivity. For me, my utmost choice clearly defines on which sides of the battle I'm born to fight.

Though I swing my fist every day with the assurance that I will survive the most perilous situation and circumstance, It seems the existing system is designed to oppose the pact I have with destiny. As one who journeys against the wind, I have to adjust my sail between the will to rise above limitations and situations that downplay my impulse.

As much as I love to tame the grief that taunts my soul, there are seasons where unpleasant fate dealt a hefty blow against my faith, these awkward moments trim down every form of motivations, I became weary of the sayings "with greatness comes a heavy price" because time and tide tend to blackmail these entreaties of patience, painting them as stale and false hope. As my patience strives not to betray the cause, time seems to betray my patience. I could only wonder how heavy the price for greatness can get? But probably not much of a price if the success goal is limited to financial affluence, but when an appointment made with purpose strikes to the root of an age long contention between light and darkness, then all strengths and fibres had to be stuck into it. 

But for the beautiful outcome and the glorious ending, this unusual kind of success story is a story of distress and loneliness, a story of peril, plight and price. It's a story of how the enemy sponsors a fall and turn around to draw out an accusation on it. A story of learning to abound and to abase, a story that brings you into the company of angels today and then lead you through the shadow of demons tomorrow. A story that turns friends into strangers and makes alien your ally. A story with phases and chapters, A story that questions your calling, deprecate your stand, betray your intentions and challenge your convictions. A story of making what you live for worth dying for, A story that demands an answer of your loyalty to God a thousand times again.

Every journey of a noble cause is truly worth a success story, so also are its sacrifices. T. Roosevelt said, “...the credit belongs to the man in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly… who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold timid souls who have… known neither victory nor defeat.”

The table certainly will be set for my fraction of a success story, then, it shall be a story that does not fall into history but rises into a future with God. Such stories the saints and martyrs of old wrote with their blood and tears, a story of how mortality is swallowed up in immortality, a story of how the righteous rises after falling seven times. A story of crowns and credentials gathered through the aid of grace. A story of one who overcomes the world. My success story will be a great and eventful one, an amazing story of grace that shied my life of consistent impact and the onslaught of hell.

Oni Omotayo